


The Black Rainbow

by kensington_queen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe Harry Potter - Freeform, F/M, Hogwarts, Nice Pansy, Non-Canon Relationship, Non-Canon Sorting, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Ginny Weasley, Shady Malfoys per usual, Slytherin House sticks together, Slytherin!Ginny, supportive Weasleys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:34:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23228701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kensington_queen/pseuds/kensington_queen
Summary: Perhaps the bravest thing Ginny has done thus far is allowing the Sorting Hat to place her in Slytherin.Without the safety of her brothers and their built-in social network in Gryffindor, the youngest Weasley learns to navigate the mysterious inner world of the most exclusive house at Hogwarts. AU with familiar plot taking place in the background. Draco/Ginny
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 74
Kudos: 184





	1. The Sorting

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know where this story came from. I don’t know where it’s going. But I sure hope you enjoy it. With all the craziness in the world, let this story be a much needed escape, on me. Xx

At the table on the opposite side to Gryffindor in the Great Hall and beneath the silver and green banners magically hanging high above it, a bored group of second year students sat watching the Sorting Ceremony. All wore the standard black Slytherin house robe with the Hogwarts crest on the left hand side, the snake slightly enlarged, and the exposed inside of their robes a shade of green to highlight their house pride. 

Draco Malfoy’s mind strayed from the ongoing ceremony and to when the food would be serviced. He realized how dull the ceremony was now that he wasn’t the one being sorted.

On one side of him, Crabb and Goyle whispered and sniggered, absolutely poking fun of anyone who found themselves the new members of Hufflepuff. 

To the other, closer to where the first year students sat, Blaise Zabini practiced the ancient pureblood art of looking engaged while mentally elsewhere. 

Theodore Nott, the quiet son of a Death Eater the Malfoy’s family knew well, claimed the seat across from him, openly defying convention with a book about the history of the influential American wizard Benjamin Franklin in his hand. 

Draco somewhat admired that Theodore shrugged off the pressures most felt to fit in, especially in the ruthless and unforgiving social world of Slytherin. Being that his father was matched evenly well with Draco’s in terms of wealth and prestige, Nott Sr undoubtedly expected nothing less of perfection academically. Theodore probably didn’t care about his peers much because of it.

 _It could serve well perhaps to befriend Nott a bit more_ , Draco mused as the line to be sorted started to thin out. Lucius always encouraged - lectured really - the importance of networking. 

“Vanderwood, Briar,” Professor McGonagall called out, glancing up from the scroll in her hand.

A curly haired brunette stepped up confidently to the stool, hopping on gracefully. 

“Isn’t that William’s little sister?” Daphne Greengrass whispered to Pansy Parkinson, both directly across from Draco’s place at the table. The two had gossiped about anyone who’s last name they did or didn’t recognize as they got called to be sorted. The boys had somewhat ignored them for the most part. So far no one had been sorted with any real significant ties to Slytherin. 

A connection to William Vanderwood though made interesting gossip, as he was the new Head Boy this year, and a Slytherin highly respected for irritating Percy Weasley by just existing. Draco chanced a look over towards the older student at the other end of the table. He seemed to be interested enough in this Briar girl, watching her carefully as the Sorting Hat was placed securely on.

“I think it could be his cousin. He has older siblings who’ve graduated except for Lillian, the fifth year in Ravenclaw.” Pansy often sat close to the older girls in the common room, pretending to do her homework while listening in to the gossip and drama. That trait came from her mother, a woman Draco’s mother politely invited over for tea occasionally and who often left Narcissa with a headache after the short hour ended.

“RAVENCLAW!” The hat bellowed out. Professor Sprout took the hat off the new member of the bronze and blue house.

She beamed, glancing over towards William (her brother?) and sending him a cheerful wave before finding a seat beside Lillian, the only sister Draco definitely knew of.

“A shame, Slytherin has only gained a couple students this year.” Daphne sniffed, fluffing her blonde hair.

“There’s still the Weasley girl and a handful of others,” Blaise interjected, his expression blank. 

“ _Another Weasley_?” Pansy wrinkled her nose, a rather unattractive look. “Hogwarts is already infected with several of them. That family is like gnomes in a garden.”

“Vu, Priscilla.” 

McGonagall called out another name, and a taller girl, a bit less confidently, went up to take her place at the stool.

“Oh, that’s that Hufflepuff’s sister, you know the chaser? Matthew Vu.” Daphne informed the group, most of whom were thinking of the meal awaiting them after the ceremony wrapped up.

“2 galleons she’s a Hufflepuff,” Pansy bet, leaning across the table and shaking hands with Blaise. 

“I say Gryffindor. It’s always the nervous types who get deemed brave and noble. Remember Longbottom?” He rolled his eyes, the disdain for their rival house seeping into his tone of voice. 

“GRYFFINDOR!”

“For Merlin’s sake,” Pansy muttered, ignoring Blaise’s smirk.

“Want to bet the next one? Earn that money back?” Blaise teased her, as Ginny Weasley’s name was called next. 

“Easy enough, she’s a Weasley. Naturally that’s Gryffindor.” Daphne nudged her friend; Pansy nodded. 

“Fine, two galleons on Weasley being sorted in Gryffindor.”

“I say Ravenclaw.” They shook hands again.

“I want in on this bet,” Draco suddenly said, surprising himself. His parents wouldn’t be happy if they knew he was betting, but 2 galleons would hardly be noticed missing from the family vault.

“I’ll say Slytherin, for bants. It’s as unlikely as a black rainbow but it’s not like I’ll be missing the galleons,” Draco boasted, shaking Blaise’s hand, then Pansy’s. He discreetly wiped his hand against his trouser leg and settled in to lose.

“Mate that’s a lost bet but I’ll happily take your gold.” Not that he needed anymore of it. Blaise’s mother ensured their family vault overflowed with her multiple marriages.

“Like mother, like son,” Pansy snarked, rolling her eyes and turning back to the sorting. 

They anticipated hearing Gryffindor shouted out by the hat at any second. It surprised Draco that it wasn’t an automatic sorting. Weren’t all Weasley’s quick to defend muggle borns and turn their nose up at the sacred Pureblood traditions? 

Traitors, the lot of them, his father preached whenever the subject of that family got brought up.

It was only last week when Draco and his father saw them in the bookshop, embarrassingly covered in Floo soot and well worn, second hand books in Ginny Weasley’s used cauldron. 

She had fiercely defended Potter, annoying Draco. A strong sign of yet another impulsive, emotional Gryffindor. 

After another enduringly long moment when Draco’s stomach began to protest at the lack of food, the Sorting Hat made its decision finally.

//

“ _You have so much to prove,_ ” the Sorting Hat whispered all around her. Ginny couldn’t see any of the faces in front of her spot on the stool before the entire Great Hall. Just blackness from the old hat engulfing her head, blocking off the light of the candles.

The darkness did not bother the youngest Weasley. So often on moonless nights she had broken into the lopsided shed in the backyard of the Burrow in order to practice flying. The dark sky proved to be a solid companion, hiding her silhouette as she dared to soar higher and higher on the unreliable SkyForce ‘85 that her oldest brother Bill had once played Chaser with, and then Charlie, before their dad deemed it retired from real games. Perfect for self learning on, though. 

Her other brothers still attending Hogwarts were surely wondering what was taking this sorting so long. Her fate in their minds was Gryffindor of course. Every Weasley going back a few generations belonged to the noble house. 

“Mm yes, intelligent and quick witted, but Ravenclaw would not serve your ambition well... but Slytherin, oh yes I can see it now....”

 _I can’t be Slytherin, they’ll never understand..._ she half heartily protested, the allure of being free of her brothers and their overbearing personalities appealing. How often had they shut their little sister out of fun activities, like Quidditch? Even Ron got to participate and he was only a year older. Where was the fairness in that?

“Your ambitions could be fully realized in Slytherin, away from the watchful eyes of your brothers,” the hat said, “Those skills you have already been utilizing will sharpen. Are you sure you want to be in Gryffindor instead? A Weasley in Slytherin isn’t rare, I would know, I’ve sorted about several dozen or so of them in my time...” 

She pictured herself flying around the pitch in a couple years, smirking at bringing her house glory and enjoying the look of surprise on Fred and George’s faces when they were beaten by their little sister.

She could taste the victory. _It could be mine._ Perhaps the bravest thing she could do would be accepting the Sorting Hat’s placement into....

“SLYTHERIN!”

//

The Great Hall didn’t burst into flames at the shock announcement, but the Weasley brothers faces certainly looked like they would. The Gryffindor table sat shell shocked in stormy silence. 

Draco, a split second upon realizing he had won the bet, leapt to his feet and began the Slytherin cheer. Quickly the others joined in, some out of spite for Gryffindor- in particular the entire Quidditch team; a few in surprise at having a Weasley being sorted in Slytherin, and others still for genuine happiness that their house had gained another student.

Draco’s eyes followed the petite red head as she leaped off the stage and walked towards her new table - his table - with a simple glance back to her brothers before breathing in deep and exhaling. She sat down with the other first years, just a handful or so of them this year. 

If she noticed him looking in her direction, it was ignored in favor of focusing back on the sorting and discreetly - she thought - looking at her brothers again.

Draco zeroed in on the Weasley brothers. Percy looked the least unaffected by the sorting, smiling at his little sister’s direction. Was that pride showing on his face?

Fred and George, or George and Fred, Draco never knew who was who and couldn’t be bothered to learn the difference, seemed very surprised. One of them, perhaps Fred, or George, wrote hastily on a scratch of parchment and magically sent it over to Ginny. The note zoomed ungracefully and quickly, landing in front of her with a bounce.

She opened it warily, only for a smokey snake to fly at her face before fading away to reveal a message Draco couldn’t read from his spot. 

Ginny frowned slightly, but gave nothing more away before ripping the paper to shreds.

Draco glanced back at the Gryffindor table, searching for Potter and his Weasley sidekick, but didn’t see them. Hermione Granger sat near one of the twins, a deep frown on her face. She wasn’t aiming it at Ginny though. 

Draco thought maybe she was wondering where the annoying duo was, not that he cared. His hunger was beginning to really irritate him. He needed food or else.

As if the house elves of Hogwarts had heard his silent agony, the ceremony ended and Dumbledore spoke briefly, mercifully, and finally, _finally_ the feast began.

// 

The magical appearance of the food in front of the first years lifted Ginny’s mood after George’s little note. 

_Snake_ was all it had read. Whether or not the twins intended to be mean spirited about her house placement, Ginny had other worries. She’d noticed Ron and Harry missing from their spot at Gryffindor table, for one thing.

The other was writing to her parents to tell them the news. She hoped they would take it better than her brothers.

Lastly, Ginny realized that in Slytherin, she was utterly on her own with absolutely no safety net. No built in relationships to ease into as so and so’s little sister. She took a deep breath. 

_I can do this. Slytherin is my house. I belong here too._

As Ginny slowly exhaled, using the breathing technique Bill once taught her to calm down, she tuned in to the other first years. They were classmates and it was important to establish a friendly connection. Otherwise it would be a long seven years in the dungeons.

One of the students, a boy with beautiful dark almond eyes and a cheerful smile noticed Ginny listening in.

“Hayden Park,” he introduced himself, “of the Park Scholars Group.” The name rang familiar somewhere in the back of Ginny’s mind. She was pretty sure that was the same wealthy family who donated different magical research grants to recent graduates of Hogwarts. Charlie was able to pursue his work with dragons thanks to it.

“Ginny Weasley, one of many, and the only Slytherin in generations.” She replied, taking a sip of pumpkin juice.

“Merlin, I thought your brothers would react a lot worse,” a pretty girl with wavy blonde hair leaned over. “I’m Cecily Merryweather,” she continued, pausing for a reaction. 

“Nice to meet you,” Ginny politely said, taking a bite of the cheesy mash in front of her. She loved anything with cheese or potatoes. Together? Divine.

“My older sister Cornelia is a Ravenclaw and she’s told me all about your twin brothers. I reckon she’s got a bit of crush on one of them. She’s always gushing about how cute Fred is, but I can’t really tell the difference.”

Ginny giggled. “He’s slightly taller than George but just barely. It’s a sore spot because he was born first too and reminds George whenever he can.”

Cecily smiled in return and asked the other first years their names. 

There were three more boys, Thomas Matthews, a shy boy who didn’t speak much but did say he was a Muggleborn; Josiah Hernandes, who spoke with an Irish lilt when he said his father was a wizard but his mam wasn’t; and Barnaby Foster, from London who didn’t say anything about his background. 

Ginny politely listened to each of them and offered general bland statements about herself in return.

Other than the boys, and Cecily, there was another first year girl with brown eyes and shoulder length raven colored hair, who merely introduced herself as Drisella Tremaine and ignored the rest of the group for the remainder of dinner.

 _Merlin, what’s with her?_ Ginny thought, hiding her distaste for the rude girl. She would maybe ask Cecily her opinion, but it was a bit too soon to make a potential frenemy asking the wrong questions. They could know each other, after all. 

The feast ended, and the female Slytherin prefect, a girl named Emily, came over to escort them back down to the dungeons. Ginny tried to keep up with the fast pace as Emily chatted about what an honor it was to be in Slytherin, and telling them about some famous past students that were notably not known for evil.

They were leaded down a stone staircase cast in soft light from torches mounted on the wall as they went deep beneath the castle.

“This hallway doesn’t see much traffic from other houses. The dungeon classrooms are accessed on the opposite side of the entrance hall. This is Slytherin only.” Emily said, stopping in front a painting with a mysterious and self important wizard holding on to a sword.

Emily turned briefly to face Ginny and the first years. “That corridor,” she nodded to a hidden entry way partially covered in shadows, “leads to the dungeon classrooms and Professor Snape’s office. There is a false wall that only members of our house are aware of that lead back here.”

She turned away again to face the painting. “Oh, and there’s another secret passage way that leads to the Hufflepuffs area of the castle. We only go there for the kitchen.”

“Password,” the mystery wizard intoned, staring at the first years critically.

“ _Lilium_ ,” Emily confidently replied. The portrait swung open to reveal an ornate set of double doors that opened at the same time. 

“The password changes every fortnight. Snape has a thing for flowers. Check that board over there for updates and other house or school news.” She pointed out an elegant marble inlaid board magically attached to the stone wall immediately to the left of the entrance.

Ginny’s eyes however were too busy taking in the common room. It was ethereal. The furthest wall had a strange glow, an eerily soft green that dominated from floor to ceiling. 

Fish swam by, oblivious to the students gaping. 

“That’s the viewing window to the lake. It’s rather peaceful isn’t it?” Emily smirked. First year reactions never got old to the common room. “There’s plenty of time to see the room tomorrow, quickly now, to your dorm rooms.”

Ginny tried to take it all in; the stone floor covered in thick, Persian style woven rugs that took the coldness away. The low hanging green lamps, the torches on the wall between medieval tapestries and paintings; the elegant antiques strewn about everywhere. The boys left them and went through a door with a snake carved into it which led to the Slytherin boys dormitory.

“This way,” Emily said to Ginny, Cecily, and the unimpressed looking Drisella. They went through a similar looking door, which surprising had a wooden and stone stair case leading up and branching off to two separate sides behind it.

They went to the left, and found at the top both sides led to the same long corridor overlooking the little female dorm foyer, and a gorgeous window that showcased the inner depths of the lake up until where it leveled with the upper floor they were on. The night sky was clear and Ginny could see stars hanging over the lake.

“All the windows are lapped gently against with the waves of the water. It’s nice to fall asleep to.” Emily walked on down the hallway, similarly styled as the common room below. Famous female Slytherins watched them pass quietly. The carpet runner beneath their feet looked just as new as the day it had been installed. The emerald green hadn’t lost a touch of color in any of the passing centuries. 

“This is it,” Emily paused in front of a mahogany door three down from the left hand side of the stairs. “Each dorm room has a personal ensuite, unlike the rest of the house dorms.” She wrinkled her nose. “We in Slytherin appreciate our privacy. Rest up, and you’ll find your class schedules on top of trunks. Goodnight, first years. Welcome.” 

With those parting words the prefect left them to go back down to the common room, undoubtedly to enjoy upper year privileges with her friends.

Cecily went into the room first, with Ginny following closing behind. 

There were three antique beds evenly spread out around the room, offering plenty of space. Emerald green and silver curtains hanged around each double bed for the option of extra privacy. The carpet was magically charmed to glimmer like the stars in the sky, and the hanging light reflected the brightness of the moon. The ceiling was painted with green vines, similar to snakes, with white flowers dotting it. 

Ginny quickly found her bed, placed opposite from Drisella’s and close to Cecily. A window was on either side, with fish swimming on the bottom half and the night sky peeking in from the upper half. 

She was relieved she wouldn’t be totally stuck beneath the castle. Ginny couldn’t wait to describe the common room and dorm to her mum.

The en-suite was a bit more modern, the only area that seemed to have changed in the centuries. A long marble countertop with multiple sinks ran along one side, a silver framed mirror behind it. The taps were silver too, and not a stain could be found. 

Separate showers were on the opposite side, with a little area to change in privacy before entering the shower stall area. The toilets were the furthers away, each in their own little room for the ultimate privacy.

“I think since there’s only three of us we can have our own designated shower and toilet,” Drisella said, her lips pinched as if it pained her to even utter a word.

It was a sensible suggestion at least, and agreed to. Ginny picked a random shower to the right side and placed her toiletries on the bench inside, ready to go. 

The girls quietly did their nightly routine, and got into bed. The only noise came from the soft waves against the window.

Ginny took a deep breath beneath the luxurious covers, exhaling. She fell promptly asleep.


	2. Slytherin Weasley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How is everyone doing with this pandemic? I hope wherever in the world you are, you’re safe and have plenty of snacks if you’re in lockdown. 
> 
> The prime minister in the UK just announced stricter rules about when and where you can go out. I know it’s the same for my friends and family back in the States. I’m thinking of you all<3 
> 
> Here’s the next chapter. It’s unbeta’d so any quirky grammar or spellings, etc, will be caught once I look it over again. 
> 
> Big, all in caps quotes are from Rowling. You’ll know it when you see it.  
> Enjoy xx

The first official morning back at Hogwarts found Draco early to breakfast. Adjusting back to the routine of having dorm mates proved tough for the blonde; he was grumpy thanks to Goyle’s snoring and Crabb’s habit of thrashing about. Neither were considerate enough to cast a _Silencio_ before lumbering to sleep. The summer holiday had faded the memories of fretful sleep thanks to the pair; Draco’s eagerness to be back at school had caused him to forget to cast the spell before bed. 

A light snore was easy enough to ignore. But Merlin, Goyle’s snoring apparently grew worse over summer. And Crabb rivaled a hippogriff’s movement with the amount of turning back and forth he did.

Draco woke up three separate times before remembering to finally shoot each of their bed’s with the silence spell.

At least Nott and Zabini were quiet.

Fighting off a yawn, Draco sat down at his usual spot and grabbed a muffin. His mother would disapprove, but she wasn’t there to chide his choice of a breakfast.

A few eager students were eating and comparing schedules, some more excited about their upcoming school work than others.

After finishing the muffin, Draco nibbled on a piece of toast while looking over his own schedule.

_Double Potions with the Gryffindors this year first thing after breakfast; bloody unfortunate_ , he scoffed. At least there was a study period after that before lunch. First years didn’t get a study period. They took intro flying lessons in the late morning.

After lunch Slytherin had the rest of their classes with everyone; Professor Snape was the only one who insisted on having two houses at a time until NEWTs.

Tomorrow the alternate schedule would take place, with a double Transfiguration after breakfast (all second years) and later in the afternoon, Slytherin quidditch practice. 

Draco smirked. The brooms his father purchased for the team were professional player quality. That oaf Flint couldn’t resist the offer and allowed Draco the spot of Seeker without trying out. He couldn’t wait to catch the snitch before Potter. 

Speaking of which.

The boy who lived and his two sidekicks walked into the Great Hall, taking a seat at their house table. They were chatting animatedly, or at least Granger was. She was probably looking forward to writing papers again or something else completely dull. 

“Morning Draco,” Pansy sat down across from him, hiding a yawn behind her hand. Daphne and Millicent Bulstrode took a spot on either side of her. They each had their schedules in hand. 

“Double Potions with Snape this morning,” Daphne groaned. “And with the Gryffindor’s!”

Millicent shrugged and poured a cup of tea. “I don’t know why you’re upset about that. You know Professor Snape will take points from Granger for being a know it all.”

“True,” Daphne conceded, pouring her own cup of tea. “Ooh, look.” 

They all turned their heads in time for Ron Weasley frantically waving Ginny over, who’d just entered the hall. First years wore the standard school robes until their second year, usually getting a new tie in house colors before the end of their first week to show off their pride. If her brother had missed the sorting, and no one filled him in yet, he probably hadn’t realized she was in a different house.

Draco unconsciously leaned forward, wanting to hear more. This seemed like promising morning entertainment.

“Ginny! Come sit with us!” Weasley called out, oblivious to the look of panic on his sister’s face.

“Ron,” Hermione started, only to be interrupted by the owls entering to deliver mail. Letters and packages began dropping in front of students. Draco watched Ginny use this distraction to her advantage and covertly take her place at Slytherin’s table next to a fellow first year girl.

A foreboding red envelope dropped in front of Weasley, distracting him further from Ginny’s whereabouts.

“This is going to be good,” Blaise said, startling Draco. His roommates had joined them at the table, the official breakfast rush well underway. The hall was packed with students.

“Ooh, a howler.” Crabb gleefully contributed, clapping his hands obnoxiously.

“This must be a new record, getting one of those first official morning of the term,” Pansy smirked. The Great Hall hushed with anticipation; everyone, including the professors eating at their own table, had their attention on Weasley. His face turned a bright shade of red that rivaled his hair color. 

“Open it, Ron. Get it over with.” Neville Longbottom advised, relief on his face that it wasn’t from his nan. 

Weasley hesitated for a second before placing a single finger on the seal: at his touch it hovered immediately into the air in front of him, folding in a way so that it was like a mouth.

Draco started to laugh as Mrs. Weasley’s voice shrilly screamed at her youngest son for stealing a muggle car his father had illegally tampered with to make it fly. Apparently Weasley and Potter used it to get to school last night. That explained their absence from the sorting ceremony then. 

_Dumbledore letting them off with no punishment, typical daft man favoring precious Potter..._ Draco internally scoffed, annoyed that Harry bloody Potter would face no consequences for his actions again.

“ - YOU AND HARRY COULD HAVE BOTH DIED!” 

Mrs. Weasley at least knew her son and his friend were stupid gits.

“ - IF YOU PUT ONE TOE OUT OF LINE WE’LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME - “

Everyone laughed as the howler continued to rag on Weasley. It finally paused, and in a much gentler tone, though still loud enough for all to hear - 

“And Ginny dear, congratulations on sorting into Slytherin. Your father and I are so proud of you and know they have gained a fine addition to that house. I will be sending a handmade scarf soon, love.” 

With that the howler blew a raspberry at Weasley before disintegrating. 

Draco glanced over at Ginny, just a few seats down the bench from him. A mixture of embarrassment and mild relief graced her freckled features. Had she been worried about her parents reaction? He supposed she would be worried, given that she was the only Slytherin Weasley in recent memory.

Entertainment over, the rest of the student body carried on with their breakfasts and opening letters or care packages from home. 

During the howler incident a small care package from his mother had dropped in front of Draco. He turned his attention to it, delighted to see some treats. He pocketed them for later, pleased to have something to munch on during History of Magic. 

“Ready for class with the _noble_ lions?” Pansy asked, gathering up her books. 

“No,” Daphne whined. They headed off, Draco and his sidekicks not too far behind. He sent a smirk over at the still dazed Weasley and Potter. Granger was pushing them towards the Entrance Hall to get to class.

“I have a feeling once he’s recovered, you’re in for a verbal attack,” Blaise observed in a bored tone of voice. 

“What’s new there,” Draco rolled his eyes. “Weasley and Potter will find a way to blame me for the little Weaslette’s sorting. _Stay away from my sister, you Death Eater snake_ ” Draco mimicked, smirking broadly.

The pair went down the general dungeon entrance stairs, beating the Gryffindor’s to the Potions classroom. Professor Snape wasn’t there yet, probably postponing his entrance to be as dramatic as possible.

They claimed the table that was theirs last year, settling in.

A short minute later the Gryffindor’s made their entrance, ignoring the Slytherins already sitting down. Well, most of them.

Predictably, Weasley went right to the table where Draco sat. Potter was by his side, frowning. Granger warily took her own seat, high on alert and watching whatever exchange was about to unfold.

Blaise, sitting across Draco, made eye contact with him and rolled his eyes in solidarity. 

“Malfoy, if you or any of your friends even think of talking to my sister or -“ 

Draco faked a yawned, interrupting him. 

“Weasley, its considered rude to ignore first years in Slytherin.”

“You’re going to try and corrupt her! The lot of you, can’t be trusted -“ 

Draco made a big show of rolling his eyes.

“Weasley, your sister has been sorted into the best house at this school, and you’re trying to sabotage it?” Draco narrowed his eyes, sneering. “Pathetic. Just because you weren’t brave enough to let the hat place you in a different house doesn’t mean you get to be an absolute pillock and ruin your little sister’s life.” 

At that little comment Potter cringed and stepped away from his best friend subtly. It hadn’t been a deliberate dig but that seemed to have struck a nerve.

Interesting.

“Do you want us be mean to a fellow housemate, Weasley?” Pansy butted in from her table, a too sweet smile on her face. 

“Are you really going to make your sister’s life difficult for not being in the same house? I wouldn’t do that to my little sister!” Daphne added, which was surprising considering usually she was content to stay out of direct drama and merely gossip about it. “For a house that’s supposedly oh so noble and chivalrous you lot are quick to bash anyone that doesn’t meet your standards.” 

“Maybe I should take her under my wing, introduce her to some of the older students who have better connections than Gryffindor can offer.” Draco smirked. “If she wants I could help her play on the quidditch team by next year too. Tell us Weasley, will you boo her?”

“ - I - she - she doesn’t have an interest in quidditch, Malfoy. And you don’t even play!” Weasley said, clenching his fist in a show of faux strength. 

“You’re looking at Slytherin’s new Seeker,” Draco bragged, enjoying the look of shock on their faces. 

“Ron,” Hermione finally rushed over and hissed, tugging him on the arm. “Enough. Come sit down, there’s no point. Before Professor Snape comes in, you’re already in trouble...”

“A wise suggestion, Miss Granger.” A familiar, nasally voice boomed from behind. “Take your seat, Mr. Weasley.” Professor Snape swept into the drafty classroom further. 

Hermione pulled her plonker of a friend to their table with Harry and Neville, wisely sitting away from Seamus Finnegan. 

“Turn to page 175. We begin with a refresher. As I am sure there are a few among you who need it.” Professor Snape’s narrowed his eyes specifically at Ron and Harry.

Draco focused on class, pleased to have irritated the trio. 

In truth, he had planned to mostly ignore Ginny Weasley. She was of no real interest to him because of or despite her blood traitor family and the brothers who unconsciously assumed they were better morally because of the house they were in.

Ginny was a Slytherin. That meant that her horrid Gryffindor connections aside, she was owed a degree of loyalty by her new housemates. They didn’t have to be friends with her or even like her as a person. 

But the moment the hat sorted her into Slytherin, respect was extended. It was up to her and the other first years to keep it, to prove it. But it was there. It existed.

He had not planned to actively pursue a friendship of any sorts with Ginny Weasley. Leave it at a polite hello occasionally at breakfast or in the common room.

Slytherins stuck together when out in the castle. They had too. The clear blatant Slytherin bashing that was allowed to persist was shameful. And Dumbledore openly allowed it. 

The favoritism towards Gryffindor was obvious, and it was especially so towards the boy who lived by the headmaster.

No, he hadn’t intended to interact with Weasley’s little sister. But the idea of being able to irritate Potter and Weasley just by being friendly? Well now, that was just too easy...

//

“And that’s it for today -“ Professor McGonagall announced, an immediate rush of bags being shoved with quills and parchment.

“Read up on the theory we discussed today and practice. Next time we will focus more on wand movement. Dismissed.” 

Ginny sighed, disappointed class was over.

Transfiguration was difficult but she rather liked the challenge of being able to turn an ordinary object into something else.

“I’m absolutely starving,” Cecily groaned, getting up and stretching. “Let’s rush right to the hall and get dinner.” 

Cecily, Ginny quickly learned, loved food and got cranky if she was hungry.

“Alright then. Drisella?” She looked at the sour faced girl, who was already halfway towards to the door. No answer.

“Ignore her,” Cecily advised, shrugging on her book bag. “Come on.”

The pair made it to dinner early. 

“Are you nervous about flying tomorrow?” Cecily asked, loading up her plate with bangers and mash. She dumped a ton of gravy on top.

“Not at all,” Ginny replied, carefully ladling a creamy soup into her bowl. 

“Oh, I am. Flying makes me so nervous. My older sister likes it enough but she is a bit more curious than me.”

“My brothers all play scrimmage quidditch at home. They never let me join,” Ginny glumly took a bite of her soup. Leek and potato melted in her mouth. 

“That’s a shame, so you haven’t even tried it then?”

“Oh no, that’s preciously why I’m able to fly,” Ginny perked up a little, “I break into the shed at night when everyone is asleep to practice!” 

“Fascinating,” a voice drawled behind her, one that she had only heard briefly at a bookshop last week. 

Draco Malfoy took the empty seat beside her as though it was a perfectly normal occurrence. Cecily’s eyes widened in surprise and met Ginny’s. 

He ignored their sudden silence, filling it in himself.

“It just so happens that I’m the newest seeker for our house. You thinking of trying out for the team eventually, Weaslette?”

The nickname didn’t hold a hint of mocking. It seemed like a genuine question. Ginny knew he and her brother, and Harry, didn’t get along at all. She heard it just last week. Why was it different with her? 

“Perhaps eventually,” she allowed, cautious. “I want to play for the Holyhead Harpies someday. Chaser.” 

“They’re alright. Better than the Chudley Cannons.” He made a face. “I like the Falcons, my father took me to a game this past summer.”

Before she could think of a reply, two girls joined them. Ginny recognized one of them as Pansy Parkinson, a girl she heard unkindly as “pug like” by Ron. In fact she was hardly unattractive, just a bit unconventional looking with dark hair cut into a bob, and hooded eyes that seemed to know a lot more than they let on.

Beside her, the other girl whose name Ginny couldn’t place, was gorgeous. Long blonde waves cascaded down her back, with a green headband keeping it out of her face. Blue-green eyes stared at Ginny, though not unkindly. It was more like an observation. 

“Is Draco boring you with his bragging about being the newest seeker?” Pansy teasingly asked. “Old news now Draco!” 

The other girl rolled her eyes.

“Not everyone is impressed Draco.” 

“I’ll have you know I was talking to a potential future chaser.” Draco puffed his chest up a bit, as though Ginny’s fate on the team was in his hands.

It probably was, Ginny mused.

“I don’t believe we’ve formally met,” Pansy ignored Draco’s posturing and reached a hand over to Ginny.

“I’m Pansy Parkinson, and this is Daphne Greengrass.” 

“Hullo.” Ginny took the proffered hand and gently shook it. Satisfied, Pansy leaned back.

“Quidditch, hm? We don’t care much for the game to be honest, but you might do well to meet Matilda Middleton. She’s the newest chaser on the team and only female.”

Daphne sighed, adding “Watch out for Marcus Flint, though. He’s a bit of a troll.”

“Say what you want about Flint but he let me on the team.” Draco cut in, eager to remind them of his new status.

“Yeah, because your father bought the team Nimbus 2001 brooms,” Pansy examined her nails. “Like I said, old news.”

Draco deflated momentarily at that. He caught sight of the trio watching them carefully from Gryffindor’s table. 

Potter seemed especially watchful.

He smirked in response, looking back at Ginny. The petite red head seemed wary of him, probably rightfully so. He hadn’t exactly given a great first impression when he taunted Potter about having a girlfriend.

But that was last week. This was now, and instead of sitting at Gryffindor with her brothers and their narrow minded friends, Ginny sat beside him at Slytherin.

She chatted with Pansy and Daphne, pushing away the lingering doubts of why they might want to talk to her.

Stories spread fast at Hogwarts. Ginny had heard all about the encounter between Ron and Draco by the time lunch rolled around.

Over protective plonker. 

She knew the second year Slytherins were merely proving a point to her brother. They were in full view of the trio as they ate dinner and exchanged small talk.

But motivations aside, she welcomed it. Maybe her housemates would end up finding out that just because the Weasleys all had red hair and shared the same parents, didn’t mean they were exactly alike. Maybe Ginny would be deemed okay enough to be friendly with, possibly even friends.

Maybe.

//

That night after homework, Ginny bid goodnight to Cecily and Drisella, the latter of whom barely muttered back a reply.

She dragged the velvet green curtains closed by hand, settling in against the pillows and enjoying the privacy. 

Reaching under her pillow, Ginny pulled out the faded diary that had fallen into her possession. 

She opened it up, and began to write about her day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh, that diary... 
> 
> If you liked this chapter let me know! What do you think of this story so far? Of Draco? Pansy? The trio? 
> 
> I love reviews. Or just drop a comment if you’re in need of some solidarity support during these scary times. <3


	3. Hazy Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, here is the update! I haven’t edited it fully yet so any mistakes or whatnot that you see I will be fixing, don’t worry. I’m just eager to get this posted. 
> 
> As always, if you enjoy this chapter please drop me a review. I love reading them! Enjoy xx

The weeks passed by in a blur for Ginny as the routine of Hogwarts became familiar to her. Classes were challenging and never dull, with the exception of History of Magic. She spent the last warm days outside by the lake with Cecily attempting to study in the waning sunlight. Rarely Drisella took up their offer to join them. She kept to herself mostly, and when she did sit in on their gossip sessions, it was in silence.

Meals were spent in the company of the second year Slytherins. That turned out to be an education in itself, listening to their prattle about the upper class dynamics they were forced to participate in. Ginny often sat silent during these conversations, unable to relate to her housemate’s worries about the pureblood expectations their parents reminded them of in letters from home.

It offered a valuable reminder that no one, regardless of background, went without issues. Not even Draco Malfoy. His constant boasting loudly broadcasted his insecurity. Ginny may only be eleven years old, but it was clear as day to her that he faced enormous pressure from his father to be the best. 

No wonder he couldn’t stand Harry. 

Harry did everything without high expectations on him. Not having parents to please or a caring family freed him from the stress Draco seemed to always be under to outperform his rival. 

Oh, he was an absolute prat most of the time. That remained true. 

Yet Ginny felt a bit of sympathy towards the blonde hair boy, especially when she witnessed how often he received letters from home that undoubtedly contained reminders to excel at everything. 

She didn’t mean to pay attention to Draco. It just tended to happen as he often picked a seat close enough to effortlessly engage in conversations at her end of the table.

That made it easy to keep tabs unconsciously.

Ginny got pretty good at being able to tell which parent sent a letter depending on Draco’s mood after reading it and tucking it away.

His father sent letters once a week, usually on Tuesday mornings. Draco’s mood always temporary deflated after reading those, and always seemed to double down on talking up his quidditch skills or roasting Harry and his friends.

His mother sent letters every other day, and usually with treats. Those were obviously a highlight for Draco, enough so that he would shut up about himself and genuinely contribute to conversations. 

Ginny kept this observation to herself. Though friends with Cecily, and friendly enough with Pansy and Daphne, she didn’t trust them in regards to the blonde haired prince of Slytherin. It would be rather suspicious. It would not do to hint she thought of Draco at all. She didn’t want to make enemies out of the second year girls who so far seemed willing to at least be seen in the company of the youngest Weasley, despite their families differing opinions on things such as blood status and which side they had stood on during the wizarding war the previous decade.

Pansy also made it very clear she was interested in Draco. He barely spared her any individual attention, but the girl was hooked. His jokes always gained extra higher than normal giggles from her spot at the dining hall table, regardless of how far away she was from him.

When he was not around, she would chat endlessly about how lovely his gray eyes looked when he wore an apparent favored green sweater, or how his skills at quidditch, potions, _breathing_ where superior than anybody else’s in their year (meaning of course Harry).

No, the observations Ginny had made about Draco were better left unsaid. She didn’t even let herself comment on his surprisingly decent quidditch skills after Slytherin’s first game against Hufflepuff; she was loathe to admit that Pansy was in fact correct about him playing. (This did not mean Ginny had also noticed his rather unusual eyes, striking as they were when he wore his quidditch uniform) 

Draco managed to catch the snitch that first game and secure a win for their house, a fact he wouldn’t shut up about for days.

Ginny did however write down her thoughts in her diary, pleased to get a response from the old book. It was quite nice to have something to tell these thoughts too, Draco’s eyes very much excluded, and get a response back. 

_My name is Tom..._ it had introduced itself as; Ginny found it often commented with feedback on classwork with accuracy, giving new ways to think of subjects that were complex like potions. It was quite helpful, really. . . 

The days passed by fast. Sometimes they seemed to blend together. She would ask Cecily about work and be surprised they had already taken a quiz or passed in papers. Ginny blamed it on her high expectations to excel in class. Deep down there was a desire to prove to her brothers that being in Slytherin wasn’t a hindrance; that it didn’t define her, not all Slytherins were bad, she wasn’t was she? She was still their little sister, her house hadn’t changed that. 

Fred and George grew bored quickly of teasing her. Snakes stopped appearing in random places like her book bag and plate at meals, much to Hagrid’s disappointment. He collected the ones Ginny came across and gave them a good home. The twins focused instead on Ron as their target, probably because it was easier being in the same house and all. 

Speaking of the youngest Weasley brother. Ron barely got over the shock of his little sister being a member of the “worst, most evil house at Hogwarts!” He couldn’t look her in the eyes whenever their paths crossed in the corridors or the common areas on the school grounds.

“Hi Ron,” she would begin brightly, only to deflate with hurt when he’d mumble a reply before rushing away. The sympathetic frowns Harry and Hermione sent her before hurrying after their friend hurt too. Before her sorting they would try and include her when visiting the Burrow. Small talk mostly; Harry seemed to like that she was into quidditch too, and Hermione once kindly offered to help Ginny with studying once she reached Hogwarts.

Foolishly Ginny assumed they would still be nice to her despite her house. Or at the very least not act as if she were a possible threat. Not much luck there.

Hermione nowadays was wary around her, on guard as if the dreaded M word would pass her lips. As if Ginny would ever call someone a mudblood! And Harry. Oh, the messy dark haired boy with those round glasses still made her so nervous. She clamped up around him, not that it mattered. He never spoke to her directly. He didn’t trust Slytherins, especially not those who kept company with Draco Malfoy. 

Which meant her now. 

Foolish, foolish. The striped green and silver tie around her neck seemed to signal to all Gryffindor’s that she was untrustworthy. Ginny’s mum sent her that during the first few weeks at school as a surprise, with an accompanying letter reassuring her daughter that it didn’t matter what house she was in. She was still their Ginny.

None of her brothers seemed to act like it though. 

Well, Percy didn’t act as if she were the next greatest evil witch since Morgana.

He made a point to check in on her weekly, at least once or twice stopping at her table briefly to say hello and look her over. She appreciated that he didn’t treat her differently, and continued to be the same. 

Yes, the days blurred by fast. The routine of getting up, classes, meals, mindless chatter with friends (were they friends now?) made it hard to tell sometimes what day it was. Nights were spent in the library, or so she reassured herself. Sometimes she couldn’t remember now she ended up in bed. Or if she had really been at the library at all. She would shake the creeping doubt away, the anxious feeling of not being to recall things taking hold and squeezing her stomach. She confided in the diary more, trying to make sense of it all. 

As Halloween approached, Percy stopped by Slytherin table more than usual with concerns that maybe she was being too hard on herself? 

“You seem exhausted, Ginny. Are you feeling okay? It’s alright to take a breather from school work, you know.” He offered a light smile. “Don’t tell Fred and George I said that, though. Wouldn’t want to ruin my reputation.” He winked, which caused her to giggle and reassure him she was fine.

“Your secret is safe with me. I’m okay Percy, really. Don’t worry. Just staying up a bit too late studying.”

Sometime in November, after he had gently reminded her again at dinner that it was okay to take a breather from studying (which was Ginny’s go to excuse and bless him, he fully believed her) Drisella of all people caught her alone in the common room, bent over her diary with books scattered around the table she claimed near the breathtaking windows looking into the lake. 

She pretended to be busy working on a paper for McGonagall, which was already done and waiting to be turned in the next day. Ginny hoped if she looked busy no one would bother her. She needed to figure out her whereabouts the night before, because she found feathers on her cloak and red liquid stained into her hands.

The school was buzzing with whispers of the message that appeared on a corridor wall this morning near the Entrance Hall for all to see. Mrs. Norris, Filch’s cat, had been discovered petrified in front of it.

_The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware._

“Ginevra,” Drisella said, so softly she’d almost hadn’t heard it. No one used her full name at school. Not even the professors. 

Ginny looked up at her roommate, wary. Drisella didn’t go willingly out of her way to talk to her, ever.

“Hi Drisella. Alright?” 

The girl took that as an invitation to sit down across from her, wrinkling her nose distastefully at the mess on the table. She neatly took her wand out and waved it wordlessly over the scattered books. They gracefully stacked, clearing the table.

Satisfied, Drisella faintly smiled and tucked her wand away into her robes.

Ginny stared.

“That’s some impressive magic. They don’t teach wordless incantation theory until fifth year.”

Drisella shrugged. “My father taught me. He said it’s important to be able to defend yourself without being obvious,” she offered a smirk. “Your brother and his friends could do with having more tact. They blare their intent for all to see.” 

Ginny didn’t disagree with that statement, but she suspected this wasn’t the true conversation Drisella wanted to have.

“Yeah...” she hedged, letting the other girl lead. 

Luckily Drisella didn’t waste anymore time.

“You are unwell.”

Ginny took a breath to defend herself, but Drisella continued.

“Don’t give me the library excuse, we both know that isn’t it. Your brother, the prefect one, accepts it because he doesn’t want to see the obvious.”

“What do you mean, _the obvious_?”

“You’re not yourself, Ginevra. You’re in a fog.” Drisella answered, leaning forward. “This is why.” She reached for the worn diary, grabbing it away before Ginny could react. 

“Give me that back!” Ginny hissed, angry. Who did this girl think she was? 

“No.” Drisella flipped it open, much to Ginny’s dismay. “Ah hah! I knew it.”

“Knew _what_?!” Ginny contained a screech, not wanting to draw attention to them. Other Slytherins were in the common room, so far not bothering to pay attention to two lowly first years. 

“This book you’re always writing in. It’s magical.” Drisella gently closed it. “Ginevra-“

“It’s Ginny. No one calls me that, not even my parents,” Ginny interrupted, annoyed.

“But it’s so low class,” Drisella complained, rolling her eyes. “Fine. _Ginny._ Listen to me carefully. This book is magical and it’s dangerous.”

“Everything at Hogwarts is ‘magical and dangerous’ including us.” 

Drisella huffed. “This is _dark magic_ Ginny. Pure dark. My father has a similar book that you write in and it answers. It’s very ancient, dark magic. My father keeps his locked away in the family vault, and for good reason. Tell me,” she paused, looking over Ginny carefully, and dropping her voice, “can you remember where you were last night?”

Ginny’s heart dropped. Drisella knew. She knew!

“I think the library,” Ginny frowned. “That’s where I remember starting to go.”

Drisella shook her head. 

“Please don’t be offended, but I followed you last night. I heard you tell Cecily and Daphne you were going to the library but you went completely the opposite direction.”

A cold feeling snuck up from the pit of Ginny’s stomach.

“I’ve noticed you say you’re going there a lot, you see. But I’m actually always at the library with Barnaby and Hayden. We’ve never seen you there.” 

“It’s a big library,” Ginny weakly defended her usual excuse.

Drisella nodded her head in agreement. “It’s a huge library,” she allowed, “but last night I followed you to Hagrid’s hut yard where he keeps those chickens of his. I watched you take one and carry it back to the school until you got to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, and then,” she took a deep breath, “you disappeared completely in a puff of dark smoke. I retreated hastily back here.”

Ginny stared at her harder, confused. That hadn’t happened at all last night. Had it?

“Ginny,” Drisella whispered more, deliberately looking around to ensure no one was listening in, “let me take this book. I believe it’s possessing you.” 

“What? No- how- you, you’re wrong.” Ginny whispered back, shaking. She denied it. But in her core.... it was true. “Even if it’s possessing me,” she shuddered at the word, “what makes you think you can take care of it? It could get you too!”

“I told you, my father has one. It’s been passed down the Tremaine line for generations. It’s kept in the family vault for safe keeping. There are ways to destroy it.” 

“And you think you can do that? You’re just a first year student like me,” Ginny reminded her. “Sure you can do wandless magic but dark magic?”

Drisella didn’t reply, thinking it over.

“Besides,” Ginny added, gathering up her books and shoving them into her school bag, “you’ve ignored me and Cecily all year so far. Why would you suddenly want to help me? If it’s dark magic, how do I trust you to get rid of it properly and not just keep it for yourself?”

She took a deep breath to calm down.

“Accio, diary!” The diary flew out of Drisella’s grasp and landed in Ginny’s waiting hand. She threw it in her school bag.

“Ginny, wait -“ Drisella started, getting up from the table. But Ginny was too upset now to listen any longer. She stormed out of the common room, rushing past Draco and his sidekicks heading towards the portrait entrance. She kept going and going until she reached Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, pacing anxiously.

She didn’t trust Drisella enough to just hand over the diary. Tom would never forgive her. No, no she needed to rid of it herself. But how? She stopped pacing in front of Moaning Myrtle’s favorite stall to haunt. That would be a good place to stash it while she figured out a better way to rid of it. No one went into Myrtle’s stall.

She threw it behind the toilet, hastily retreating away, eager to take a hot shower and forget the conversation she had with Drisella. Ginny prayed to Merlin her roommate wouldn’t bring it up again. She hoped.

//

Draco followed Ginny closely behind. She rushed so quickly past him that she brushed up against him, slightly shoving him. On top of that she rudely ignored his hello. 

“Go on without me,” Draco waved Crabbe and Goyle ahead. “I just remembered I need to polish my broom for the match next weekend.” 

He didn’t wait for an answer before taking off behind the youngest Weasley. He had noticed in the past few weeks a sort of feverish look on her freckled face. Draco couldn’t pinpoint what exactly was wrong with her, but she seemed.. off. Not herself. Not that he talked often with her one on one. She just.. was there, always close by. He grew used to her presence, that was all.

Pansy and Daphne liked chatting with Ginny and her roommate Cecily for whatever reason, often making room for them at the dining hall table or in the common room. He overheard their conversations plenty of times to notice how Ginny’s usually bright tone of voice had dulled. And her hazel eyes... they were accompanied by dark bags. Not that he made it a point to notice, of course. 

He also couldn’t help observe how often Weasel-brain and Potty ignored her eager hello’s when their paths crossed. He saw the brief flashes of hurt she buried quickly each time. Draco found himself sometimes sending jinxes their way afterwards, thinking briefly of Ginny before pushing thoughts of her away. It wasn’t like he did it on her behalf or anything.

He just got pleasure from irritating the duo. Especially after the duel club showdown... and then the whole bludger incident that Potter blamed him for. As if he knew! 

Draco made sure to keep a safe distance away from the petite red head he followed, hiding behind statues occasionally. To his immense surprise as he ducked behind a tapestry depicting an ancient Druid ritual, Ginny hurried into Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, digging frantically into her school bag.

A scarce few moments later, just as Draco began to wonder if maybe she simply needed to use the loo for personal reasons (but why not go to the one in her dorm?) Ginny reappeared, practically sprinting away back towards the Slytherin common room as if her life depended on it. 

Now he really was intrigued.

Cautiously he looked both ways before crossing the corridor. It was empty, save the gruesome tapestry he just hid behind. Draco darted into the bathroom, knowing it would be deprived of any living person. Mercifully, Moaning Myrtle herself did not appear either.

She was busy haunting a different bathroom, Draco assumed. He hoped.

He looked around, noting that it was rather dirty inside. Cobwebs and dust decorated the mirrors and the faucets, unused for decades. Squinting, Draco saw that the floor too was rather filthy, but there were dust free spots near one of the stalls. 

He kicked the questionable stall open, not wanting to dirty his hands. A book lay by the toilet, face down and shut.

“Bloody disgusting,” Draco murmured. “Wingardium Leviosa,” he said, pointing his wand at it. The book hovered in the air dangerously close to the open toilet. Gently he waved it closer to him. He muttered a book cleaning incantation his father often used, to ensure it wasn’t covered in germs or filth before grabbing it to examine closely.

“T.M.R.” He read out loud the initials on the cover. Draco recognized the faded book as one Ginny often wrote in at her favorite spot in the common room after dinner. Why had she ditched it in here? 

A familiar, screeching moan floated up through the pipes. Moaning Myrtle was returning.

Hurriedly, Draco tucked it hidden in his robes and retreated out of the bathroom. He made his way back to the common room, nodding hello to any passing older Slytherins. He ignored Pansy’s wave on the sofas when he entered the glowingly green room, and went right through the boy’s dorm entrance.

He raced up the stairs and headed to his dorm room, where thankfully Goyle and Crabbe were missing from. Nott sat on his own bed, face hidden by a book per usual. A shower could be heard faintly behind the bathroom door, humming flittering through. Blaise.

Immediately Draco shut his bed’s curtains, heart thundering. Only once hidden from prying eyes did he take out the book. He flipped it open. To his dismay blank pages greeted him. Frustrated, he slammed it shut. He had witnessed Ginny writing in it countless times! Did she charm it to hide her words?

He opened the book again, uttering various incantations that he knew could reveal secrets. Nothing.

Draco grabbed a quill from his bedside table and wrote the day’s date on it, deciding to make a list of reasons why Ginny wanted to get rid of this old tattered book. To his astonishment it faded away into the page.

_Hello_ a word appeared suddenly.

Draco stared. 

_My name is Tom. What’s yours?_

Tom? He scrunched his nose in concentration. Why did that name ring a bell?

“Bloody hell,” Draco whispered. He slammed the book shut. A sinking feeling of dread filled his stomach.

This wasn’t a normal, ordinary diary at all. 

A flash of memory came to mind; the day before running into Ginny and her family at Flourish and Blotts with his father there had been a hushed argument in the East Library at the manor between his parents. His father said something about _carrying on with the task,_ much to his mother’s dismay.

_... but an innocent child!_ his mother had argued back, adamant against whatever his father was plotting.

_Would you rather it be our son?_ his father had chillingly replied. His mother hadn’t answered. 

Draco remembered sneaking down past midnight into his father’s personal study, minding the spots where wards were set up to be triggered. This book had been there openly on his desk, nothing special about it to warrant more than a disappointed look over.

Why hadn’t he noticed it was the same one Ginny wrote in?

He supposed he was too caught up in his rivalry with Potter and playing quidditch to really pay attention to what Ginny’s book looked like. But now here it was in his hands, clearly the same one from his father’s study. 

How did Ginny get it?

And what was he going to do with it?


	4. Tis the Season (for social games)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Ginny head home for Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! How is everyone holding up? Anyone else having the days blur together? 
> 
> Here is the next chapter. I apologize for a later than usual update. I have been using all this free tine to work on some personal projects. I am very excited about what I have planned!
> 
> Enjoy xx

It was an early morning for students taking the Hogwarts Express back to London. Those heading home sleepily made their way to the Great Hall; some hid their yawns better than others. Ginny woke up thanks to an overly cheerful Cecily, merrily chatting about the Christmas pudding her nan made every year and the treacle tart her sister ended up botching without fail. 

Cautiously Drisella followed closely behind, taking a seat behind the first year boys at the house table. She hadn’t spoken to either of her roommates since approaching Ginny about the diary. It filled Ginny with anxiety each time the other girl came near, worried that the topic of the diary would be brought up again. Not a word was uttered either about the hiding spot - Ginny kept what she had done with the book close to her chest, the secret threatening to choke her. 

She had to stop herself several times a day from going to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom and retrieving the old book. It felt like a betrayal to Tom, abandoning it in such an undignified spot. Drisella kept an eye on her, and it wouldn’t do to expose the hiding spot. Why Ginny felt so adamant about keeping it away from her roommate, she didn’t know. Perhaps that was Tom influencing her. Still though, there wasn’t trust between them, so Ginny avoided potential opportunities to be alone. 

“Morning you lot,” Cecily greeted as they sat down. The breakfast was rather festive looking with a bit more sugary options than usual. The entire Great Hall was decorated splendidly with Christmas trees all around, featuring star ornaments that glittered. Little pixies darted between the branches, giggling mischievously. A central tree stood behind the teacher’s table and soared high towards the enchanted ceiling. Snow fell from above, gently dissolving before hitting the students who sat below.

Ginny almost wished her parents were having them remain this year at Hogwarts. Ron had told her all about the Christmas dinner and festivities for the students who stayed behind last year. Her stomach twisted at the thought of her brother talking to her casually like he used to; he never did anymore. She wondered if when they were near their parents he would act kindly again, and if he did, would it be genuine or for show?

“Ginny?” Cecily waved her hand. “Hullo, Ginny?” 

“Hmm?” Ginny looked at her friend, realizing she spaced out. “Sorry, daydreaming about Mum’s Christmas meal.”

“I can’t blame you for that, I’m drooling at the thought of the food waiting at home! I was just asking about where we should sit on the train. It’s almost time to go.”

“You’ll sit with us of course!” A familiar haughty voice interrupted. Pansy flounced over with Daphne and Millicent. They sat down, pouring their usual cups of tea. 

“Oh, lovely.” Cecily cheerfully grabbed a pastry. 

“I’m so happy to go home,” Daphne dreamily said, taking a sip of her tea, “I miss my little sister terribly. I can’t wait to see her.”

“Will she be at the station?” Ginny politely asked; she hoped to get a glimpse of Daphne’s sister as they all heard so much about her.

“No,” disappointment laced Daphne's voice. “Mother wrote and said they’re sending the house elf to collect me.”

“At least you’re going home.” Millicent sullenly clutched her tea cup. “My parents are going to the continent for Father’s business. At least they promised some expensive presents.”

Pansy clucked her tongue sympathetically. 

“I’m sorry Mills, but think of it this way! Your mother is so fashionable. You’re guaranteed to be gifted the latest dragon leather bags and shoes from the Paris’s wizarding district. Remember last year your mother gave you that stunning goblin gold watch?”

Millicent shrugged, grabbing a handful of pastries and wrapping them in a silk handkerchief before standing up. Ginny didn’t think the girl had her mother’s supposed fashion sense at all, given that she only ever seemed to favor unflattering sweaters that made her appear to be bigger than she was. Pansy and Daphne often tried to get Millicent to let them give her a makeover. No luck thus far in that department. 

“I guess. Right, I’m off. I think a tea by the fireplace with Lancelot is what I need. Merry Christmas.” She walked away, slightly limping.

“Why is Millicent walking like that?” Cecily asked, concerned.

“Didn’t you hear?” Pansy snickered. “Mills and Granger got into it at the last duel club meeting. Granger kicked her hard before the professors broke it up.”

“How low class,” Daphne sniffed, “using your body in a duel! Hardly surprising Granger’s Muggle background.”

Ginny chanced a look over towards Gryffindor's table. Hermione was leaving the table with Harry in tow, heading in the direction of the Entrance Hall. According to the latest school gossip, both were staying behind for the holidays. 

“Ginny, come on. Grab a few biscuits for the train. It’s time!” Cecily excitedly nudged her.

Students were beginning to file out, laughing and loudly chatting with friends about holiday plans. They all carefully avoided Peeves gleefully zooming above their heads, singing crude Christmas jingles off-key.

Outside of the castle on the path that went to the carriage pick up area, Gnny spotted her brothers. The twins were flicking snowballs with their wands at Percy’s head while he held his girlfriend’s hand. 

Ron trailed behind, looking unusually lonely without Harry and Hermione by his side. Ginny wondered again what her brother would be like without the influence of his friends. Maybe the evil house comments would stop. Part of her hoped that the brother she knew might reappear, if only for Christmas.

She caught up with her brothers as they reached the thestral area. Percy gave a nod of acknowledgement as he helped his girlfriend into the carriage that pulled up in front of him; seated, he effortlessly shot back the snowballs hitting him at full speed back to the twins. They stumbled into the snow on the ground, groaning good naturedly. 

Ginny climbed into a carriage with Cecily and the older Slytherins, which included Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott. Notably missing however, was the smug face of Draco. She didn’t bring it up though, waiting instead for the information to be offered to her. This was a skill she was beginning to learn: patience brought valuable and useful information. 

Onboard the train, the group claimed a compartment near the back where other Slytherins sat. Ginny noted that Drisella and the first year boys were sitting somewhere else; they were not yet included in the older student’s dynamics. It still amazed her that despite - or because - of her family background she was brought into the social fold of the younger Slytherins destined to someday be like Head Boy William Vanderwood, the handsome older Slytherin whose parties in the common room were legendary, and whose family were amongst the upper elite of Britain’s Wizarding pureblood society. 

Hierarchy ruled Slytherin; even the order of seating in the train compartment was carefully crafted by status. They might be the youngest of Slytherin house, but they were not excluded from being mindful of who sat where. Since Draco was missing from the train ride, Blaise took his place as the most popular boy. He got the middle seat, holding court with everyone’s attention naturally drifting towards him throughout the duration of the ride back to London. 

Pansy and Daphne claimed the middle seats across him, happy to have his attention. This left Cecily and Ginny, to each sit beside the window across from each other; Cecily was welcomed beside Blaise with cool indifference. Crabb and Goyle had been welcomed into the compartment before the train took off, but were presently elsewhere. Ginny didn’t mind that. She found the duo to be rather clueless and lacking personality besides the predictable devotion of Draco. 

Lastly Theodore sat with a book near the sliding door, per usual pretending to be oblivious to the chatter around him. The book in question was titled _Glastonbury’s Magickal Footprint_ and he seemed engrossed entirely, not giving way that he was very much paying attention. Ginny wanted to tell him that she had been to Glastonbury, not living too far away, but they had never talked before and it seemed to cross the unspoken line of social acceptance, especially as they sat farthest from each other. 

A few pleasant hours passed with mindless chat about classes and gossip, with games of Exploding Snap in between. The food trolley lady came and went; everyone purchased enough sweets to give them a stomach ache to last until Christmas. The scenery outside turned grayer and rainier the closer to London they got. Snow was a rare sight in London, unfortunately. Carefully it seemed everyone avoided the topic of Draco, but eventually Ginny’s patience paid off. Naturally, it was Pansy who brought up the missing blonde boy.

“I can’t believe Draco got to use the Floo network home.” Pansy sighed, leaning against the window. Ginny and her had switched seats sometime in the afternoon after a trip to the loo. _I like to see the views go by,_ Pansy had confessed. They were an hour away from King’s Cross and the landscape outside had morphed from pretty countryside to worn towns.

“His father is on the board of governors. No surprise there,” Blaise said, bored. “Supposedly they’re hosting a party this evening for some important Ministry leaders and needed him sooner.”

“My mother said we will be going to the Malfoy’s sometime this holiday week for their usual ball. I have to go to Madam Malkins this weekend for a fitting.” Daphne frowned. “I bet it’s a horrible shade of green. Mother always makes me wear that color.”

“My parents are going to that,” Pansy said, “but they’re not sure if they will be bringing me. I told Father that I’m perfectly old enough to handle a Malfoy ball but they want me to wait before introducing me to society.” 

“My parents are going tonight to the Malfoy’s,” Cecily jumped into the conversation. “My father works in the Department of International Magical Cooperation and goes every year.”

Ginny hid her surprise at this. Despite their fast friendship, there was a lot that Ginny actually didn’t know about Cecily. It figured though that her parents would attend functions that the Malfoys would throw. She realized too that at that moment she didn’t know where any of her peers called home when not at Hogwarts, but neither had she offered that information. 

“Safe to say mine won’t be there,” Ginny playfully said. 

“I think you could end up at a Malfoy party eventually,” Daphne sincerely said, stretching as the London skyline came into view out the window. “Draco invited us all last year for an end of school year party, for his birthday.”

“If my parents let me,” Ginny replied, standing up too to change out her school robes. “I think they’re still in denial I’m in Slytherin.”

“Just say you’re at my house,” Cecily volunteered, “they can’t be mad if you’re spending time with your best friend! Where do you live? I’ll stop by before this break is over if they’ll let me so I’m a familiar face.”

Perfect! A chance to find out where they were all from. Patience really did pay off.

“I live in Devon, near Ottery St Catchpole. What about you lot?”

“Cornwall,” Theodore answered first, speaking up for the first time during the train journey. “I’ve got some family in Devon too.”

“I didn’t know you live out there,” Daphne said excitedly, “I live in Bath! We have an amazing townhouse that the Muggles can’t see in a very historic area, and we go to Cornwall every summer.” 

Theodore nodded solemnly, closing his book and grabbing his trunk. “Bath is pretty,” he muttered; and that was all he said again, falling into silence for the last few moments as the train inched closer to King’s Cross. Rain began to pelt the windows, and London seemed grumpy in the dark night.

“Well, I live in Kent but that hardly matters with the Floo network.” Cecily smiled brightly as the train pulled into the station. “I’ll ask my parents if you can come over too. We can make gingerbread houses.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Ginny smiled back. Pansy and Blaise didn’t offer up information on where they lived, but considering their personalities that was hardly surprising. Eventually she would find out. Patience would bring that to light.

Everyone grabbed their trunks once the Hogwarts Express came to a halt. Pansy led the way off the train, and once on the platform everyone dispersed, except for Cecily who insisted on meeting Ginny’s parents. They found Molly Weasley standing off to the side alone, no signs of her sons anywhere. At spotting her only daughter, the older woman’s face lit up with joy. 

“Ginny! Oh, I missed you.” Ginny let herself be pulled into a tight hug briefly before untangling from her mother’s arms. Molly spotted Cecily standing patiently waiting with her trunk in hand. “And who is your friend? Hullo dear, I’m Mrs. Weasley.”  
“Mum, this is Cecily Merryweather, my best friend and roommate at school.”

“Mrs. Weasley,” the petite blonde flashed a warm smile, offering her hand to shake. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

Molly took the offered hand, shaking it and giving a smile of her own. “How lovely to meet you. I’m glad Ginny has made a best friend. Are your parents about dear?”

“Yes mam, they’re probably just running late. Mother tends to lose track of time around the holidays with planning meals and festivities.”

“Mum, can Cecily come over before the break is over to play?” Ginny softly asked in the tone of voice she mastered a long time ago to get her way. Being the youngest of seven, it was a tactic that worked most of the time, playing up the baby role.

“If it’s fine with her parents, I don’t see the harm…”

“Oh there’s my mother!” Cecily waved her mother over, flanked by her older sister Cornelia. Mrs. Merryweather was tall and slender, with curly long locks that resembled the missing sunlight. Her traveling cloak was undoubtedly expensive, but well worn and cared for lovingly. Quick introductions were made, and plans to have the girls visit each other over the two week school break were agreed on. By the time the Merryweather family had taken leave, Fred and George appeared, snickering and whispering in that mysterious twin way. Ron grumpily accepted a kiss from their mum, before finally they all left the platform for Muggle London. 

“Ah, there he is.” Molly walked briskly to a waiting Arthur Weasley, standing beside an old Peugeot outside the station. “Load your trunks into the boot - George don’t trip Ron! - hurry now it’s a long journey back home, thankfully not much traffic at this hour….”

“Hi Daddy,” Ginny hugged her father tightly, breathing him in. She missed him and all his Muggle oddities. He held her for a moment, pulling back and studying his youngest’s face in the light of the street lamp overhead. 

“Are you my little Ginny? I seem to remember a much shorter daughter than the one before me.” 

She giggled, handing him her school trunk. “I think I’ve grown an inch maybe.”

“Hm, that food at Hogwarts must be doing the job after all. To think your mother was fretting about you lot this whole time.”

“Arthur!” Molly appeared by side, having ushered the boys into the backseat of the car. “It’s about to downpour, shall we get going?”

The ride back to Devon was long, and loud. Ginny lost track of how many warnings the boys received from their mum. At least the car was magically altered so that the four of them could sit comfortably and not on top of each other. The Muggle car plotted carefully along the highway; it appeared her father hadn’t enchanted this car like the other one he had before; Ginny suspected he was still being watched by the Ministry after Ron’s stunt with the Ford Anglia. 

Eventually they turned off the A2, following the signs for Ottery St Catchpole. Outside the sleepy village Arthur took a sharp left down a road that led to a cow field near the marshes; the Burrow rose up beyond the magical barrier past an abandoned farmer’s barnyard in the distance along the dirt road. Home seemed smaller than Ginny remembered; she had grown accustomed to the grandeur of the Slytherin common room and meals in the Great Hall. 

Arthur parked the car right outside on the dirt driveway, whistling as he opened up the enlarged boot and floated out the school trunks through the open waiting windows of each of his children’s bedrooms. Molly had decorated the outside porch area with enchanted lights that glittered in the darkness, and upon walking inside the cozy sitting room area, Ginny discovered all the usual decorations were up merrily waiting to be appreciated. 

Ginny surprised a yawn; it had been an early start to the day but she didn’t want to give away her tiredness. She wanted a cup of chamomile tea with her mum and dad, her traditional choice in the evenings, but her body had other ideas and her eyes grew heavy; she fell asleep on the faded couch beneath the picture window, moonlight shining brightly through.

+

Far away in Wiltshire, Draco sat stiffly beside his mother at the mahogany dining table that seated thirty people, each seat taken by an important member of the Ministry. He wasn’t considered old enough yet to have a spot of his own at the table where he could entertain guests, and neither did his father think he could handle the business talk at the other end of the table. Lucius Malfoy held court at the head of the table, the most important men at the Ministry talking in hushed tones around him. Instead Draco was stuck with his mother and the wives of the men further along the table, enduring questions about his studies. 

“Have you met my daughter,” a woman who resembled Narcissa Malfoy with slender features and blonde hair that curled softly at the end of her fancy hairstyle asked him near the beginning of the meal. She sat across him, the tall silver candelabra allowing enough view to see her. Her accent was different from the other guests, more broad and less formal sounding. Draco couldn’t quite place it.

“What is her name?” Draco politely asked, annoyed that she hadn’t immediately offered it so he could know who her daughter possibly was. An annoying tactic it was, asking little questions to stretch the time chatting. All the high society women seemed especially skilled at small talk. 

“I have two, though my older daughter is a couple years ahead of you,” the woman said, a slight smile on her face. “My younger one is a first year student in Slytherin. Cecily Merryweather?”  


Draco of course knew Cecily. The petite girl was friendly enough, but seemed wary of him and stuck close to Ginny. 

“I know Cecily well, she and her roommate often sit with my friends and myself at meals.” Draco stabbed the last bits of quail in front of him, longing to be freed this evening to his personal bed chambers. His parents had sprung this on him last minute, and he was still grumpy about missing out on time with his friends on the train. 

The woman didn’t notice the sour mood hidden behind his stormy eyes, prattling on instead.

“Yes, Cecily! I met her best friend today, I presume that’s the roommate you speak of. Ginevra her name is.” 

Narcissa Malfoy, having been listeing in from her spot at the table, politely jumped in, a calculated interest hidden in her eyes that closely resembled her son’s, though they were a touch more blue and practiced at hiding emotions. 

“Ginevra?” 

“Yes, oh Narcissa, a wonderful girl my Cecily has befriended. Her parentage can’t be helped, being a Weasley, but my daughter’s friend is well mannered and polite just the same.” Mrs. Merryweather paused, sipping her goblet before continuing. “She caused quite the stir according to my Cornelia, being sorted into Slytherin. First Weasley in centuries to not be in Gryffindor, I believe.”

Narcissa’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly towards her son. Draco hadn’t written about the little Weasley’s sorting in any of the letters home. That particular topic would definitely be brought up at breakfast in the morning, Draco was sure of it. Giving a half hearted smile towards his mother, he took a big gulp of pumpkin juice and focused all attention on finishing up his meal in silence; the attention shifted from him to the topic of the blood traitor Weasleys and the speculation of their youngest child being sorted in Slytherin. 

Dessert appeared, and the rich, festive chocolate cake didn’t cheer him up like it normally did. Draco’s mind wandered back to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom and the book he left hidden in his trunk at school. He didn’t dare bring it home, but he was determined to find out more information in the Malfoy collection of forbidden books. 

At last, after an evening cup of chocolate cocoa, Draco was dismissed from the table and allowed to go back to his room. His mother led the ladies to her favored sitting room overlooking the prized rose garden, and his father went to the Little Library with their husbands for an evening cap. The aptly named room was the cozier of the three libraries in the manor. Draco took this distraction to an advantage, heading to the main library in the East Wing of the house. There were a few shelves of forbidden books there he thought he would start looking at; his mind drifted towards Ginny and the book he had found in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. He went up the spiral staircase to the top level of the library where the roof domed and painted medieval images of angels and saints decorated the ceiling, unmoving. 

Those books proved to be a disappointment however. They were about love spells and mind control, and the histories of Morgana and Loki. But nothing about possessed books graced the shelf. This meant Draco would have to find a way down into the manor’s secret vault where the real dark magic books were hidden, beside objects that had mysteriously disappeared from history. Temporarily defeated, he exited the library, stopping briefly to grab a childhood favorite of his, _King Arthur and The Knights of the Round Table_ , just in case his parents found him out in the halls.

But they were still entertaining, even as one of the grandfather clocks struck midnight. He went to his bedchamber where a fire waited, warming the room. The luxurious feeling of the blankets lulled him into a peaceful sleep as his mind thought of a frantic red haired girl and a mysterious old book. 

+

Morning arrived early for Draco, sunlight pouring through the windows. The fire was burning again, ready for the cold day. Sleepily he made his way to the bathroom to start his morning routine of a warm shower and getting dressed. He allowed himself to read a bit of his favorite book in an armchair by the fireplace, a cup of tea beside him delivered by a house elf before sighing; he needed to go down and attend breakfast. 

His parents were sitting in the West Hall, a splendid space that offered views of the surrounding countryside bathed in golden morning light. It was the family’s personal dining room, no less grand than the other official dining rooms in that manor, but it allowed for a more relaxed atmosphere. Narcissa took great pains to pick seasonal flowers from the wondrous garden outside each week. Holly took center stage on the dining room table, considered quite small with only twelve seating options.

Lucius sat with a copy of the Daily Prophet at the end near the big windows, his meal not yet touched. Narcissa sat beside him pleasantly, reading December’s issue of The Witches Gazette, the high society newsletter she favored. 

“Morning Father, Mother.” Draco took his normal spot on the other side of his father, reaching for the scones laid out on the table, ignoring for the time being the full english on his plate. 

Lucius lowered his paper, looking at his son critically. 

“Son.” He acknowledged, before placing the paper back up to hide his face. His father never cared much for chatter in the mornings. 

“Morning Draco,” Narcissa said warmly, putting away her newsletter. “Sleep well dear?” 

“Yes, Mother.” 

They chatted lightly about the upcoming ball his mother was hosting, the few schoolmates who were scheduled to attend with their parents, and about the dueling club, before his mother casually asked about the Weasley girl’s sorting.

“I was surprised to hear from Cora Merryweathy that her daughter has befriended a Weasley.” Narcissa poured more tea into her cup with a graceful stroke of her wand; the china they were using came from the Netherlands and was considered too valuable to chance with the house elves when in service. 

“She was sorted into Slytherin,” Draco said, nervous. “I assumed they were too lowly to think much of, Mother.” His parents had never indicated they would want to know about the blood traitor family before. 

“True, they _are_ an embarrassment to Purebloods everywhere… Yet how fascinating that their only daughter was seen fit to be placed in Slytherin,” Narcissa curled her lip. “Perhaps there is hope yet for sense to reach them. Lucius, what do you think?” She prompted her husband, who hadn’t lowered his paper again. He turned the page, sighing deeply.

“I wouldn’t count on it, my dear. One child out of a family that large won’t change their ways. If only they'll double down.”

“Hmm,” Narcissa thoughtfully narrowed her eyes, “Perhaps it is prudent to invite them to our holiday ball.”

Lucius lowered his paper at that suggestion. His expression was unreadable. 

“What could we possibly gain by associating with that quack Arthur and his wife?” 

“Nothing, at least not anytime soon,” Narcissa admitted, “yet I think it could provide useful down the line. Imagine the look of surprise on their faces to be invited here. . . and how bad it would look if they turned it down?”

Lucius muttered under his breath.

“What was that my dear?” Narcissa smiled brightly at her husband, knowing she would get her way. He had learned after all these years that she was quite good at playing long games to their end benefit. 

“I said fine, so long as it’s not all of them. I have heard of those twins they call sons,” his face darkened, “Severus bemoans about their tricks at the board meetings. I won’t risk our home bringing them in here.”

Narcissa waved her hand airily, dismissing her husband’s concerns. 

“Not to worry dear, just the two parents. And maybe their daughter.”

With that, she stood up and headed to her personal study, crafting an invitation to be sent by owl post later in the week. 

Lucius departed from breakfast too for the Ministry, leaving Draco alone to eat. He wasn’t quite sure of his parents motives, but he couldn’t help but worry about Ginny coming to his home with her folks. He sighed. His mission for the day would consist of getting into the vault below the manor and research the books his father had down there about the darkest of magics. Lucius would be gone all day, so he had plenty of time to explore. 

“Hera!” Draco shouted for when he was finished with his meal. A little house elf appeared, neat in appearance but nervous in energy. 

“Yes, Master Draco,” she squeaked out. 

“I’m done with breakfast. Come get me if my mother calls for me, but only then. I want to be left alone today.”

“Yes, Master Draco!” She poofed away again. Draco quickly raced to the second set of servant stairs, abandoned and left over from the previous centuries when his ancestors employed Muggle servants. He found the loose stair half way up, a red herring to those searching the property. Fake art was stashed below for thieves to take. 

Draco went back three steps and turned to the painted panel walls, old fashioned and modeled after some of the palace rooms in Versailles. He took the knife from breakfast tucked safely into his robes, swiftly cutting his hand and placing it on an invisible section of the wall. It glowed a faded red, disappearing into the cracks without a trace. The panel wall swung open, allowing entry. 

Draco darted in, ready for a long day of research.

+

Ginny sat curled up with a cup of tea by the fireplace, happily listening to the radio that played Muggle Christmas songs. Her thoughts drifted again towards the diary she had abandoned, but slowly the heavy feelings that turned her stomach were beginning to fade away. The guilt was a bit harder to shake off, but that too slowly got weaker as the holiday break went by. 

Three days she had been home, letting her mother coddle her and her father give her extra dessert when no one else paid attention. Ron kept his distance still, choosing to double down on bugging the twins with mixed success. 

Her parents certainly had noticed, but they were careful to not mention it in front of her. Ginny overheard a good shouting from her mother though after a flippant comment made by Ron about her house placement when he didn’t think Molly was nearby. After that Ron soured, muttering about he missed school. 

Molly listened to Ginny’s stories about her common room and friends with an open mind, as much as possible at least. She felt uneasy deep inside that her daughter cohorted freely with Death Eater offspring. The last names she heard mentioned all belonged to people responsible for Who-Must-Not-Be-Named rising in popularity and got away with it. But Molly couldn’t fault innocent children who had no say in their parentage. Slytherin too so far seemed to create a soft confidence in her youngest; Ginny spoke with an assertiveness now and didn’t waver when her brothers tried bossing her around. 

The letter they received from Dumbledore the night of the sorting had reassured the Weasley’s that Ginny would do well under Severus Snape; Molly still didn’t think highly of the man but if Dumbledore trusted him…

“Mum, did I tell you yet how every morning in the common room there’s this beautiful group of fish who swim by, and their colors are so extraordinary -” Molly listened to her daughter as she made a pot of tea. Another subtle thing too was that Ginny’s vocabulary sounded more sophisticated than her brothers. 

“Sounds lovely, Ginny.” 

Her daughter sighed, dreamily. 

“Oh Mum, it is. Cecily and I….” she prattled on. Cecily often featured in Ginny’s stories. The Merryweather family weren’t known to have supported the Death Eaters; Cora Merryweather was from a wealthy American wizarding family and they were still there when the first war broke out, according at least to The Witches Gazette. The newsletter was a guilty pleasure of Molly’s. Some might think it silly to read a newsletter dedicated to high society, filled with expensive robes and big manor houses that were out of reach for the Weasleys, but Molly thought it was nice to look at. 

“Then Daphne Greengrass said….” 

Ah, the Greengrass family. They certainly hadn’t been shy about expressing their views. Molly could recall Seraphine Greengrass, formerly of the Rowle family, from her own years at Hogwarts; two years ahead and a Ravenclaw who fell in with the anti-Muggle crowd after falling for Dalton Greengrass. As far as Molly knew, Dalton hadn’t taken the mark, and was quickly found innocent of any suspicions. 

A flapping of wings came from the distance. A haughty gorgeous looking snow white owl appeared, tapping the glass of the kitchen window. Ginny let it in, admiring as it landed gracefully on the old owl rail suspended above the window. It looked about disdainfully, an expression Ginny didn’t think owls could make. 

Molly took the scrolled up parchment, handing the owl a treat. It nibbled it, hooting. 

“Oh my,” Molly said, glancing up from the words scrawled neatly on the expensive scroll. “Arthur!” She called out the window; he was in the shed tinkering again. The owl didn’t budge. It clearly waited for an answer. “ARTHUR!”

He hurried out of the shed, red faced and huffing. 

“What’s wrong?”

She shoved the parchment in his face. His eyes widened and he looked back up at his wife, furtively glancing at their daughter.

“They want an answer I presume.” Arthur reached towards the owl to give it a pet; it tried to bite him. He drew his hand away, sighing deeply. 

“I don’t know why they would invite me. I’m not high enough up the chain, so to speak.” 

Ginny moved back into the living room with her fresh cup of tea to overhear. Her brothers were elsewhere in the house and unusually quiet. 

“I don’t know about this, Arthur. I don’t like it.”

“My boss will be there….”

“Do you think maybe he asked them?” Molly paced around the kitchen, wringing her hands. 

“Maybe, but he hasn’t mentioned it to me. Should we go?”

Molly grabbed her husband’s arm, dragging him outside and away from the living room where she knew Ginny was listening in. 

“They invited Ginny,” she whispered, worried. 

“Well she is in their son’s house, Molly. Perhaps they’re friendly at school. It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing.”

“But after the confrontation at the bookshop! I don’t trust Lucius, you said so yourself he was rude towards Harry and that son of his was taunting them….”

“Molly,” Arthur said, gently squeezing his wife’s hand. “Ginny also stood up the Malfoy boy fiercely that day.” He laughed lightly. “I thought for sure she was destined for Gryffindor then. But the hat saw something more in her, sorting our little one into Slytherin. She’s probably surprising everyone in that house, the Malfoy boy no different.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think perhaps she can’t help but draw attention, and that the Malfoy boy is being friendly now because he sees an opportunity to expand his little circle of mates. I bet it drives Ron and Harry mad that Ginny is welcomed in that circle, and that’s one of the reasons why we’re being invited. It’s a game, love.”

Molly frowned deeply.

“You think that boy is _using our daughter_?”

“I think maybe initially yes. But I bet you by the end of the year the reason why he started chatting to her will be forgotten. He’s just a child too, Molly.”

She sighed deeply. 

“So what do we do? Attend this ball of his parents? You know they want to humiliate us, Arthur.. Our best dress robes are outdated by at least a decade…”

Arthur hugged his wife closely, shivering when the wind blew.

“We’ll go with Ginny. Don’t worry about the clothes. I have an idea.” He drew back, gently placing his hand on his wife’s soft red hair. “Let’s go and reply so that the snobby owl can get going.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this chapter update please leave me a review! I love reading them. They make my day. I think I am going to have this story in three parts. We are in the first part right now. I think a time jump will happen to move the story forward. This is a full blown romance story between Draco and Ginny, I promise! Just need to wait until they're older...
> 
> xx


	5. The Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Relax, Weasley. This one should be fairly simple too. Let me lead, alright?” Draco said as the music started up again. Ginny was aware that her parents were dancing nearby, as were the Malfoys...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update at last! I haven't forgotten about this little story of mine. <3 Apologies for the delay in updating; _As We Go On_ took more of my time as the muse struck for that, and I have been very busy with job applications, interviews, lesson planning, anxiety attacks about job hunting, and writing original stories of mine!
> 
> This has not been edited yet, I wanted to get it up and posted so please be aware of that as you read. I will be going back as always to look it over.

“But why do we have to stay with Aunt Muriel,” Ron pouted for what was surely the hundredth time in the last hour. Ginny hid a smirk from her place on the overstuffed chair in the corner of the living room, as George mockingly copied each of their brother’s movements. Ron crossed his arms with an exaggerated huff. 

“Yeah, why can’t Percy watch us?” Fred appeared from the kitchen, tossing an apple in the air and catching it. He took a huge bite, stretching out on the sofa opposite Ginny. Red chunks sprayed down his faded sweater. It had once been a brilliant orange, but in the dim light provided by the Christmas tree lights and the lamps hanging overhead it resembled more the color of a rusty Muggle nail that Arthur kept stashed in his shed. Percy rolled his eyes, not bothering to respond to the comment from his nearby seat on the bottom step of the staircase. 

Fred took this as an invitation to continue. ”You’re fine with him bossing us about at school - _munch_ \- but once we’re home _munch_ his prefect status suddenly doesn’t matter anymore?” 

“Gred makes an excellent point.” George raised his eyes towards Arthur, who stood patiently waiting by the fireplace for instructions from Molly upstairs. finishing up getting ready for the evening.

“Thanks Forge.” Fred tossed the apple core at his twin, watching as it effortlessly got smacked towards an oblivious nearby Ron. 

“ _OUCH!_ Dad did you see that!”

“Boys,” Arthur half-heartedly warned, pulling out his pocket watch to check the time. 

“ _Dad_ ,” Ron impatiently tugged on his father’s arm to get his attention. “Why does Ginny get to go to the fancy party?”

“I’m a guest of Draco’s,” Ginny reminded him. She still couldn’t believe that an invitation had been extended to her. Hadn’t Pansy said on the train her parents weren’t likely to take even her? And she was the daughter of people who were actually on friendly terms with the Malfoy! 

The words had been elegantly scrawled in gold ink that shined in candle light, on thick creamy parchment, the expensive sort that had to be requested specifically at Flourish and Blotts. Ginny kept it tucked away carefully in a loose floorboard beneath her bed for safe keeping. She had reread it until the words were etched by memory in her mind.

_Ginevra Weasley is cordially invited to the Malfoy Christmas Eve Ball at the request of Master Draco Malfoy. 7 o’clock Christmas Eve, Malfoy Manor. FlooNetwork: The Silver Reception Room_

“BOYS! Why are you all casually lounging about? Your Aunt Muriel is expecting you now! You know how much she loathes tardiness.” Molly’s voice boomed from the top of the staircase. 

Percy’s eyes widened. He scrambled quickly out of the way as their mother descended down, the unfamiliar sound of high heels ominously clicking each step. She appeared just as the boys lined up by the fireplace, ready to take a handful of floo powder from the bowl in Arthur’s hands. George did a double take, staring. 

Fred gave a whistle. “Do we know you? Where’s our mum?”

Molly flushed red, making her way over to the fireplace.The ruby dress robes she donned floated softly to the floor with a shimmering effect that reminded Ginny of campfires and starlight; a matching hair clip pinned her hair back from her face in complicated updo. Ginny knew that the dress robes were gifted and the hair clip on loan from Aunt Muriel; the batty old lady had been pleased to hear that they had been invited to one of the best Wizarding events of the year. For a fee Madam Malkin had updated the dress robes to be a tad more modern, and complimentary to Molly’s figure. The result was a transformation from overworked mum of seven to belle of the ball.

Molly wrung her hands, fussing over the boys. 

“Remember to be polite to your great-aunt, ignore her quibbles about the Ministry Percy - George and Fred, _do not trick her, she is so very fragile nowadays_ Ginny, goodness, your dress robes! Stand up so they don’t get wrinkled -” 

Ginny got up from the armchair, smoothing her robes out. Her own set were slightly newer than her parents, found in the Olde Broom Closet shop in Wizarding Bath, a popular hub in their part of England. 

“Come now, off you go. We’ll be back before you know it. Your father will come call for you when it's time.” Molly watched as Percy stepped into the fireplace, Floo powder in hand. 

“Orchard Gables!” A puff of green smoke hid Percy from view, clearing to show that he was gone. 

“Now you Ron,” Arthur offered the bowl of floo powder towards his youngest son. 

Sullenly Ron grabbed some it, stomping into the fireplace.

“Orchard Gables!” He said resignedly; another puff of smoke and flame appeared, whisking him away. 

Next the twins each took a pinch, each disappearing to Aunt Muriel’s. 

“Right, Ginny.” Molly turned her full attention now on her daughter. “Let’s just fix that -” She waved her wand over the festive green dress robes, smoothing out the crinkles; Molly was quite pleased that they had found it at the consignment shop last minute

“Only a season old,” the eager shop assistant had said, keen to get a sale. Despite her monthly subscription to the Witches Gazette, Molly didn’t know much about fashion. She suspected however, based on the bargain price of less than two galleons, that the robes were much older. But they had only needed some hem work, and it was age appropriate for Ginny. 

Molly prayed to Merlin that no one there would make a comment about how the dress robes were not trendy in front of Ginny. 

_“I don’t care what they say about me,”_ she had said to Arthur, returning home from the shopping trip in Bath. _”I worry about Ginny. . .”_

+

“Mr. Crouch, thank you for coming. This is my son, Draco.” Narcissa stood in the grand foyer of Malfoy Manor, Draco beside her to greet guests as they arrived. The politeness and decorum of such social events were stifling; he longed to be back in the family vault reading. Just earlier in the day Draco had discovered a book that seemed promising, titled _Enchanted Objects and the Moral Code of Usage_. The table of contents hinted that the topic of books that could talk back were to be discussed, but Hera, his mother’s house elf, had interrupted him before he could dive in. 

“Thank you for the invitation,” Mr. Crouch replied, nodding stiffly towards Draco. “My wife gives her regards, she is ill at home tonight.”

“A shame,” Narcissa offered a sympathetic smile. “Please give our warmest wishes to Verity.”

Mr. Crouch nodded, moving swiftly on and allowing the next guests to step forward. Draco politely said hello to every single guest for what felt like eternity until Ginny arrived with her family. 

He remembered her father from Flourish and Blotts. Mr. Weasley was often described as a barmy, Muggle loving poor Weasel by Draco’s father, and certainly in the shop that day his robes had been quite worn looking like his childrens. In the light of the chandelier over head, Mr. Weasley looked no different from the other guests in a plain black dress robe, accented with festive red. Beside him stood a plump woman whose red hair was pulled up into an elegant hairstyle similar to one that Narcissa favored.

Draco’s eyes however were drawn to the girl between them as they approached the receiving line; Ginny wore a very complimentary green dress robes that reminded Draco of his favorite sweater and a cup of tea. She was playing with her sleeves as they moved with the crowd. Was it his imagination or was his mother hurrying through the guests to get to the Weasleys?

The previous slowness of time melted away and sped up; before Draco was ready the Weasleys stood in front of him and his mother, awkwardly saying hello and thanking her for the invitation in a rather unpolished manner.

“And this must be your youngest,” Narcissa said, her inquisitive gaze focusing on Ginny. 

“This is our ginbug,” Mr. Weasley cheerfully replied, gently squeezing his daughter’s shoulders. “Ginny is set to give us all a run for our galleons, I think.” 

“I’m sure her sorting came at quite a shock,” another voice cut in. Lucius appeared suddenly, taking his place beside Narcissa. “A Weasley in Slytherin, such a thing hasn’t happened in centuries.”

Mrs Weasley tensed up at Draco’s father’s words, but merely smiled. It reminded Draco of a female dragon with her babies the way Ginny’s mother flashed her teeth. “All mothers wish for their children to be happy.” 

“Of course,” Narcissa replied coolly. “We wish nothing but the best for Draco. I think it is wonderful that the hat realized the potential for your daughter in such an esteemed house. She will be in good company there.”

There was a moment of silence between the adults as they played their mental headgames. Draco looked at Ginny though, surprised she was already looking at him. 

“Mother, may I escort Ginny into the ballroom? It is her first time here and it will do well for me to perhaps show her around,” Draco politely interrupted. “If that is alright with you, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley?”

“Of course darling,” Narcissa fondly smoothed down his hair, embarrassing Draco.

Mrs. Weasley looked rather unsure but did not protest when Draco offered his arm to Ginny, leading her into the ballroom through a pair of grand mahogany doors. 

“Hullo, Weaslette,” Draco greeted once they were out of their parents' hearing range, leading her over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the garden. A small group of Slytherins were there, standing to the side with glasses of berry juice and light mulled wine. 

“Draco,” Ginny said, trying to take control of her nerves. She suddenly felt a surge of adrenaline and tried to not let her voice waver. 

“Ginny,” a surprised voice rang out when they got closer to the window. Daphne Greengrass stood next to Blaise Zabini, both looking exceptionally stylish in their dress robes. Daphne was especially fabulous looking; her blonde hair was braided in a complicated style that framed her heart shaped face, held in place with emerald and diamond clips. Her dress robes were green, just as Daphne had predicted on the train. The material was silky, with a high neckline that was accented with a diamond necklace. 

Blaise on the other hand wore a traditional black dress robe, though it had clearly been tailored specifically for him. He offered a nod in lieu of greeting, sipping his glass of mulled wine.

“Hi Daphne,” Ginny shyly greeted the older girl, pulling away from Draco. He let her go, quickly turning his attention from the girls and saying a polite hello to the other Slytherins who had been forced to attend the ball with their parents. 

“Lovely dress,” Daphne looked over her housemate’s outfit with a critical eye. “It looks familiar, is that an _Evanora_? I had one quite similar last year, it’s my mother’s favorite designer.”

“It might be,” Ginny consciously smoothed her dress of non-existent wrinkles. 

“Well, either way. You look perfectly lovely, don’t you think Blaise?” The blonde turned to the bored looking boy. He gave a non-committed sound of acknowledgement but didn’t say anything else. 

Daphne rolled her eyes, looping her arm around Ginny’s.

“Ignore him, he’s just sour because his mother,” she indicted with a sly nod towards a gorgeous woman wearing a low cut set of dress robes and diamonds at her throat which dipped into her cleavage, “She’s here with her newest husband, and he’s _very_ young!” 

Indeed, the newest husband of Blaise’s mother looked like he could have been a recent graduate of Hogwarts. 

Ginny didn’t know what to say, so opted to simply nod. Sometimes no words worked better. It prevented embarrassment. 

Daphne led her away from the boys towards an older couple; was Ginny imaging it or were there eyes watching her? She could have sworn Draco watched them walk away, but she didn’t look back to check. 

“You must meet my parents,” Daphne said. “I’ve told them all about you. Mother is _so_ curious about you.”

Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass were elegant and very intimidating. Mrs. Greengrass was wearing emerald green dress robes with silver trimming, a diamond tiara atop her head. She looked like a fairy-tale princess, or an evil queen. Her eyes, the same shade as her daughter’s, narrowed as the girls approached. Her husband, Daphne’s father, stood beside her. He had darker hair, but was tall and imposing in his sleek cut dress robes that probably cost more than Ginny’s father’s monthly salary.

“Who is this friend of yours, darling?” Mrs. Greengrass asked once they were beside them. She looked carefully over Ginny’s outfit. 

“This is Ginevra Weasley, a house mate of mine at Hogwarts.” Daphne looked at Ginny, as though expecting her to add something. 

Ginny did the first thing that came to mind. 

She curtsied. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr and Mrs. Greengrass,” she tilted down awkwardly. The Greengrasses didn’t look impressed. 

“Lovely dress,” Mrs. Greengrass commented instead. “Daphne had one just like that, last season. I donated it to one of the shops in Bath near where we live. Marvelous taste your mother has, with her budget…”

Ginny’s face burned bright with embarrassment. 

“Don’t tease, darling.” Mr. Greengrass smirked. “Ah, I see your father, Miss Weasley. I think I'll go and introduce myself since our precious daughters are in the same house.”

Ginny watched as he walked off, leaving his wife behind. Sure enough he beelined right over to her parents, who were standing to the side of the room and talking quietly amongst themselves.

“Hm,” Mrs. Greengrass said, disdain on her face. “Daphne, show your little friend around. I must go chat with Mrs. Johnson-Battery.”

“Her new last name is Mrs. McFarris, Mother. That’s her new husband.” Daphne hid a smile at her mother’s eye roll.

“For Merlin’s sake, as soon as I remember her new last name she goes and gets another husband,” Mrs. Greengrass sighed. “Perhaps I will join your father instead.” She glanced again at Ginny. “Pleasure, Miss Weasley. I am sure it will be far too soon that I will see you again.”

With that, Daphne’s mother walked away, heading for Ginny’s parents.

Daphne stood quietly for a moment until her mother was out of earshot.

“That was so cute, you trying to curtsy!” Daphne laughed, looping her arm around again Ginny’s and leading them in a slow walk around the room. It seemed there was no particular destination, just a stroll around the room for people to watch.

“I don’t think she likes me,” Ginny admitted. 

Daphne laughed again. 

“She hardly likes me, and I’m her eldest! Non-sense, she invited you to our home before leaving. Even Pansy hasn’t gotten that from my mother.”

Ginny felt confusion at the older girl’s words. Mrs. Greengrass had certainly not said anything of her going to visit the Greengrass estate. 

“Daphne, I think you misunderstood her mother -”

The blonde waved her concerns away.

“She said she’d be seeing you too soon. That means she intends on inviting your mother and you around for afternoon tea.” Daphne paused, a small smile on her face. “Mother doesn’t care much for Mrs. Parkinson. She finds her to be a gossip. Don’t tell Pansy I said that though.”

Ginny still thought Daphne was rather crazy for thinking her mother wanted her over for tea, but she let it drop. 

+

They made a few more rounds around the room until dancing began. The Malfoys started with a traditional dance with roots in one of the King Henry’s royal courts. Even Ginny’s parents seemed to know the steps, surprising her with how graceful they could be. She had never seen them dance so formally before.

“Care to dance, Ginny?” Blaise surprisingly offered a few songs in. She looked at his offered hand, suddenly shy again. 

Daphne gently shoved her towards the boy. 

“Yes, thank you.” Ginny accepted his hand, a loss of words. He silently led her out to the floor as a tune for a waltz played. 

“Just follow my lead,” Blaise said. “It’s simple enough.”

She nearly tripped over her own feet, but she picked it up easily. They danced in companionable silence, just the music to accompany them. 

When she was wondering if perhaps polite small talk should be introduced, he spoke up.

“Draco is watching us,” Blaise said, a tinge of amusement in his voice. It took all of Ginny’s willpower to not look around to see for herself. 

“That’s odd,” she forced herself to say instead. 

“Yeah,” Blaise agreed. He fell silent again. Ginny looked at him in confusion. 

“Why did you ask me to dance? I thought you would ask Daphne. You’re friends with her, not me.”

Blaise looked at her, an unreadable look in his dark eyes. He was only twelve years old but he seemed far more mature than any of the others in their house, including Draco.

“It’ll annoy my mother to be seen with you, I think.” He twirled them around to the sound of the violins. 

“Because my family is a bunch of blood traitors?” Ginny guessed, matching him step for step.

“Not at all,” Blaise said. He smirked. “Mother doesn’t care for that sort of status.” They took a few steps to the left, then right. “This means she will have to introduce herself to your parents, as is the etiquette. She’s caught up in married bliss with her new husband.” 

“So…”

“So now she will have to entertain. She hates doing that when her husbands are.. Still around.” Blaise rolled his eyes. The song was ending. 

Ginny had no idea what to say. She was confused again, a common theme for the night it seemed. 

“Right on time,” Blaise suddenly said, politely stepping back as though their dance and conversation never happened. 

Before Ginny could ask what he meant, another voice spoke behind her. 

“May I have the next dance?” Draco offered his hand when she turned. Blaise disappeared into the crowd, leaving them alone.

Wordlessly, Ginny took his hand and let him take her towards the center of the room. She felt nervous; they were drawing a lot of attention to themselves, and Ginny wouldn’t know the steps to the next dance either. At least Blaise had kept them at the edge of the ballroom.

“Relax, Weasley. This one should be fairly simple too. Let me lead, alright?” Draco said as the music started up again. Ginny was aware that her parents were dancing nearby, as were the Malfoys. They seemed to be wanting to hear whatever the conversation would be between their children, but Draco suddenly led her away from the center, putting distance between them and their curious parents. 

“See, you’re a natural,” Draco drawled a minute later. 

Ginny rolled her eyes. 

“I haven’t stepped on your foot yet,” she said, matching his steps.

“You won’t,” Draco simply replied. He was right. She wouldn’t.

“Your home is really pretty,” Ginny said after another few minutes of quiet. She didn’t know what else to say. It felt very surreal to even be at his house - _mansion_ \- in the first place. Like this wasn’t her life, it was a stranger’s.

“It’s alright,” Draco shrugged, keeping in time with the music. Was this song longer than the rest? It sure seemed like it was to Ginny. He leaned forward a bit, a slight smirk on his face. “It has some hidden rooms which are far better than Mother’s prized rose gardens.”

“Wow, I can’t even imagine.” 

Draco twirled her around a few times before answering; she nearly tripped the second time but caught herself in time. 

“It’s great for researching.”

“Are you doing some extra homework then?” Ginny didn’t take Draco to be an academic type like Hermione, but with how everything was going so far, she supposed it wouldn’t surprise her if he was. He did do every homework assignment, at least. Far more than her brother and Harry did based on what she heard from Hermione last year.

“I’m looking into magical objects,” Draco casually said. A touch too so, but Ginny was too preoccupied making sure she didn’t trip again to catch it.

“Oh? That sounds dangerous. Are second years allowed to research things like that?”

“I don’t think second years, or first years, are allowed to even have magical objects of their own that aren’t standardized, but that doesn’t stop a lot of students,” Draco said, hoping she might pick up on the hint. He was dying to know more about the notebook.

“Drisella knows a lot about that kind of stuff, you should ask her,” Ginny said, still not making the connection. There was no reason for her to, she never saw Draco go back into the bathroom and retrieve it. 

“Drisella Tremaine?” Draco asked. He knew that was Ginny and Cecily’s other roommate. The girl didn’t sit with them much, choosing instead to spend time with the Slytherin first year boys. 

“Yeah, her father has a collection or something, like I’m sure your father does.” Ginny rolled her eyes. Draco ignored the slight dig. 

“Hmm, yeah, maybe.” Draco thought it over, making a mental note to approach the first year girl when the semester resumed. Before he could say anything else, the song ended. He bowed dramatically, hoping to get a reaction from Ginny. She rolled her eyes at him, curtsying clumsily before getting swept away by Daphne.

Draco walked away from the ballroom floor, a plan formulating in his mind. Drisella Tremaine hadn’t been invited to his parents' ball, and he hadn’t heard her family’s name on the list of invites when his mother had gone over it in the weeks leading up to it. He would have to do some digging. 

+

The night flew by from there for Ginny. She found herself on the dance floor one more time with her father, who seemed emotional to be making this memory with his daughter. The night ended after that, for the Weasleys at least. Molly thanked Mrs. Malfoy for the invitation once more on their way out.

The other woman merely nodded and said goodnight; it wasn’t until the Weasleys got home that they finally relaxed. It was nearing midnight by then. Her brothers arrived shortly after, full of high energy and laughter after their evening with Aunt Muriel. Only Percy looked exhausted as he climbed the stairs for his room. 

Ginny got into bed in a fresh pair of pajamas, really Bill’s old Goblin Smash band t-shirt and Ron’s hand-me-down Chudley Cannon sweatpants. She fell asleep thinking of music and Daphne and the Malfoy Manor. The last image that popped into her mind was that of Draco, twirling her around the ballroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I am hoping the next update doesn't take as long, but with so much going on in my life I can't promise that it will be soon, unfortunately. I appreciate each and every one of you guys! Your reviews help motivate me so much. <3


	6. Serene Danger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update, hooray. I literally just finished up writing this chapter and am very eager to post it for you guys. So please ignore awkward grammar and spellings, that will get fixed when I look it over later. It's a bit shorter than I would like it to be, but I like where I ended it. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“And then I opened a present from my grandmother, the one who lives in Paris in that gorgeous flat overlooking the gardens in the wizarding district? She sent me the most beautiful dragon leather school bag that has golden threads in it, the whole thing shines when the light hits it so, see?”

Ginny looked up from her game of exploding snap with Cecily in time to see Pansy wave a hideous green bag around, a proud smile on her face. Daphne politely nodded, offering a very convincing _ooh_ as Pansy gently placed her bag back up with the luggage. 

They were on the way back to Hogwarts for the next semester, the holidays having ended far too quickly for anyone’s liking. Ginny didn’t have a fancy present to boast about like the others in her compartment. It appeared to be an unspoken contest to see who got the best gift, though Pansy seemed to be the only one actively participating. 

“Did you end up getting that necklace you wanted?” Daphne absentmindedly asked from her spot beside Blaise. She was peeking over his shoulder as he flipped through a peculiar looking magazine. On her other side, in the corner by the door, Theodore sat as usual with a book. This time the title read _Celtic Rituals for the Strong Hearted_ with a drawing of Stonehenge on the cover. 

Not for the first time, Ginny thought he had the most unusual taste in books. She was again beside the window of the compartment, sitting across Cecily and forced to be next to Pansy. At least Crabbe and Goyle were furthest away as they shoveled sugary treats into their mouths. Draco was sprawled out beside Pansy, his legs blocking the limited floor space as he dozed. If Daphne was annoyed about his shoes beside her, she didn’t show it. 

Pansy smiled wide at her friend’s question. She pulled out a chain that had been hidden under robes. “Father got it especially made just for me, and see? He made sure the jeweller used the best quality diamonds and emeralds.”

The chain was a dainty silver with a _P_ hanging at the end, encrusted diamonds and emeralds that caught the eye. It was very flashy. 

“My, that certainly draws the eye,” Daphne politely observed, catching Ginny’s eye as Pansy looked back down at her necklace. Ginny lifted her eyebrows slightly, watching as a faint smirk curled Daphne’s lip in response. 

“Cecily, what did you get up to during the holidays? We missed you at the Malfoy ball, though I did see your parents.” 

“I spent a lot of time with my family,” Cecily replied, waving her wand to clean up the abandoned game of exploding snap. “And Ginny came over a couple days after the ball. She told me all about it. I’m so jealous, I wish I could have been there.”  


“I’ll tell Mother to put you on the list for next year,” Draco said casually, his eyes closed. “Of course there will be another one this summer, so I’m sure you can come then.”

“The Summer Solstice Ball?” Cecily excitedly asked, clasping her hands together. “That’s legendary. Mother told me that the dancing lasted until dawn last time she attended.”

“That’s the one,” Draco sat up, yawning dramatically. The sun was setting outside, darkening the compartment. He turned towards Ginny, leaning over Pansy to address her. “I hope you can make it to that one too, Weasley. It’s far better than the winter one.” 

“Ahem,” Pansy cleared her throat, shooting Ginny a withering glare. “I didn’t know Ginny was invited to your family’s ball.” 

“It was rather short notice,” Ginny said, struggling to not give away the fact she felt rather uncomfortable being on the receiving end of one Pansy’s stormy looks. She felt exhausted too, having not slept very well during her time away from school. She felt eager to return. There was a jitteryness to her energy beneath the surface, though she chalked up to having too much sugar cookies over break.

“I didn’t see your parents there,” Blaise spoke up, peeking over his magazine. He didn’t flinch as Pansy shot him a nasty death stare. 

“Father had last minute business to attend to in Ireland,” Pansy sniffed dismissively. “Mother and I went with him to Galway.”

“Ireland is quite beautiful, even during winter,” Cecily sympathetically said. “Did you do some fun exploring?”

“I’m going for a walk,” Draco suddenly stood up, stretching. “Crabbe, Goyle. Come with me,” he ordered as he strutted out of the compartment. The two idiotic boys scrambled to catch up with him, leaving a litter of trash in their wake. 

“Ugh,” Daphne wrinkled her nose. She waved her wand and said a cleaning charm to send the trash away. “Merlin knows what’s so urgent, it’s not like Potter is on the train to go spy on.”

“No, but Granger and Weasley is,” Pansy distastefully said. “How _was_ being stuck in the same space as your brother, Ginny? I can’t imagine what it must be like to attend one of the most prestigious balls of the year only to go home and have to deal with so many Gryffindors.”

“Um,” Ginny played with the hem of her robe, a second hand one from Charlie’s school days. It had been modified to fit her petite frame, but it still had a slightly faded color from years of use. “I spent a lot of time with my brothers, but Ron doesn’t seem eager to look past my house status.”

“His loss,” Cecily shook her head.  


“Your brother is a prat,” Pansy fiercely said. “Bloody Gryffindors with their superior act.” 

“My sister doesn’t care about me not being in Ravenclaw with her,” Cecily said. “And my grandparents were both Ravenclaws too, as was my father. No one gave me a hard time at Christmas for being in Slytherin. I don’t understand your brother’s attitude.”

Ginny shrugged, at a loss for words. She hid a yawn, tapping her foot anxiously. The conversation turned into gossip about other students in their house. Eventually Crabbe and Goyle came back, though Draco took longer to reappear. He showed up when the sky was completely black outside and it was time to change into school robes. 

Ginny wondered briefly why it took so long for him to return to the compartment, it wasn’t as if there were many places on the train to go hang out. But the chatter distracted her, the thought melting away as the train slowed down to a stop at the station.

The carriages took them from Hogsmeade to the castle, just in time for dinner. 

+

The first week back was accompanied with snow falling high on the grounds, encouraging students to initiate a snowball fight after lunch on the weekend. Draco stared moodily out the window from his spot on the fifth floor of the castle, watching as the Weasley twins enchanted snowballs to follow a few of his Slytherin classmates; a stray one launched itself towards Percy, who was grumpily watching from the sidelines. 

Draco saw Ginny sneak up behind Cecily and Daphne, throwing snow over them before running away with laughter; her mood seemed to be ever brighter since returning to school. His thoughts turned once more to the mysterious diary hidden in his trunk back in the dorm. 

“I must say, this is quite a mood you’re going for here,” a voice broke out in the silence behind him. He turned to see Drisella Tremaine standing a respectful few feet away from him. The first year girl was wearing a soft white sweater and Muggle black trousers, a snug black cloak wrapped around her body to keep the chill of the air out. She looked at him patiently as he briefly observed her. 

“Mood?” He asked, turning back towards the window. 

Silently, Drisella stepped up beside him to glance out the window too. “You’re up here, instead of being outside with your friends. I must say I’m intrigued as to why I’ve been asked to join you in this odd exercise, but,” she gracefully inclined her head towards where Ginny was laughing with Cecily. “I could venture a guess.”

“Weasley mentioned your family has a collection of magical objects.”  
“Oh?” Drisella turned away from the window, leaning back against the stonewall of the alcove they were in. “And this merits a conversation to have in a random corridor because?”

Draco studied the younger girls face carefully. She calmly stared back, giving nothing away. “I’m not familiar with your family name.”

She huffed a quick laugh, surprise on her face at the sudden direction of the topic. “I don’t suppose you would,” she said. 

“Tremaine, it sounds French. My mother has made me study the language since I was a baby,” Draco crossed his arms. “Is it French?”

“It’s Cornish, actually. Though my mother was French,” Drisella carefully replied. Her brown eyes narrowed. “If this is about blood status,” she spat out, “then you will be pleased to know I meet Slythern’s standards.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Relax. That’s not why I called you here to meet with me.”

“Well then?”

“I’ve found myself in possession of a peculiar book,” he said offhandedly. Drisella’s expression didn’t change, but her eyes widened just slightly. “I found it, you see, in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom shortly before the holiday break. It writes back.”

“Merlin’s beard,” Drisella shook her head. “I told her to give it to me.”

“You told who?” Draco asked, hoping finally for some answers. “Do you mean Weasley? Because I only found it after she left the bathroom in a hurry.”

“That book is dangerous,” Drisella whispered, a sadness in her eyes. “It will do the most unspeakable damage to a person who engages with it. I spotted it by chance in Ginny’s things, and noticed her being a bit off before the break.”

“What _is it_? I tried researching it in my father’s personal library but I couldn’t find any information on it. As soon as Weasley mentioned you, I thought I might ask. I didn’t think you would have been aware of it though,” he said, trying to not accuse her of anything. She had, after all, done nothing wrong. She didn’t even talk to him, as was the unspoken custom for first years and older students. How could she possibly know about his research endeavor? 

Drisella tilted her head, studying him. “It’s a horcrux,” she told him, the unfamiliar word twisting her lips in an ugly way. “They are dangerous,” she repeated. “They are evil, and I really must urge you to give it to me so I can pass it on to my father to dispose of it.”

Draco shook his head. “I need more information than that,” he said. “Like why it’s so dangerous and evil.”

“Draco,” she said seriously. “That book is the sort of evil most people couldn’t even dream of. A horcrux is dark magic, darker than what our sort of families usually deal with.”

Draco smirked slightly at the words. 

“No,” she shook her head. “It’s darker even more so than the cursed items our families have hidden away, darker than what can be found in Knockturn Alley. I know we have the whole evil Slytherin thing going for our house, but honestly it truly is the darkest sort of magic.”

“What’s so dangerous about a horcrux,” Draco asked, unconvinced but intrigued. “Magical objects that interact with the user are a sickle a dozen in the shops.”

“Most objects don’t contain a fractured piece of someone’s soul,” Drisella countered back. “That’s what a horcrux is. It’s how that diary interacts. It’s not a charmed, harmless object. It is literally a piece of someone’s soul in those pages. It feeds off the energy of the user, and can get into the mind. It can control.”

Draco stared at her in disbelief. She stood under his gaze, serene and still. How would a first year know about this kind of magic anyways? 

“My father has a book just like it,” she said then as if reading knowing his thoughts. “It’s a family heirloom, of sorts. Passed on down through the generations. It’s locked away in the family vault, with the other priceless treasures we own.” 

“You mentioned disposing of the diary,” Draco brought up. 

“Father says poison does the trick,” Drisella shrugged. She looked out the window. The snowball fight was still going, though Ginny was no longer visible in the crowd below. “I had hoped to get the book to the vault until I could secure some of that to destroy it.”

“Why would you want to help Weasley? You barely talk to her,” Draco crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes at the petite girl in front of him. She didn’t flinch. 

“Why do you want to help her,” she flipped the question back on him. 

“I don’t want to help her at all,” he scoffed. “I merely wanted to know about the diary.”

“Then why did you follow her that day she was upset?” Of course Drisella would somehow know that, Draco realized. The girl knew a lot, it appeared. “I also followed her to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom,” she continued. “I saw you wait for her, and then go into the bathroom. I didn’t realize though that you took the diary. I went back to the dorm after Ginny left.”

Draco stared at Drisella.

She put up a hand to stop any words that might come out of his mouth. “Keep your secrets, Malfoy. I’m only interested in the diary. You really need to dispose of it. You know now how to do it. Whether or not you trust me to help, well. All I ask is that you let me know when it’s gone. It’ll be better for everyone once it is.”

Drisella turned, as if to go. 

“Wait,” Draco stopped her. “Any idea who might create such an odd book? I mean, splintering your soul? Who would do that? Why?”

“Who?” Drisella half smiled. “You know who,” she answered, fully turning away and leaving him alone to his thoughts. 

He mulled over her words while he relaxed in the common room with Crabbe and Goyle, listening to them prattle on about the snowball fight outside. Pansy shared the same sofa as him in their corner of the common room, keeping some distance away from the older Slytherins in front of the marble fireplace. 

_Who? You know who…_

Draco’s eyes widened suddenly. 

“Bloody hell,” Draco leaped up from his spot. 

“Are you okay, Draco?” Pansy asked, concerned. Crabbe and Goyle paused to look at him. 

“I need a nap,” he said quickly. “Listening to this story is tiring me out. I’ll see you at dinner.”

He left for the dorm, practically running up the stairs and down the hall to the second year boys room. It was empty, no one in there. Swiftly Draco yanked open his trunk, digging through it to find where he had hidden the diary. 

His heart sank as he reached the bottom. 

It was gone. 

+

“Ouch,” Drisella hissed as an arm grabbed her, pulling her into an empty dungeon classroom. “For Merlin’s sake -” she stopped, taking in the sight of Draco. He looked paler than usual. “Malfoy…”

“It’s gone,” Draco stated. “The bloody diary. I went to grab it today after I figured out your bloody Ravenclaw clue,” he glared at her. “And it’s gone. No one knew I had it. How is it gone?”

“I didn’t take it,” Drisella defended herself. “If that’s what you’re implying. Merlin, I said I wanted to know what you do with it, why would I take it?”

“But who would take it,” Draco countered. “Ginny seems happier than ever since she tossed the bloody thing -”

“Oh?” Drisella bit her lip unsure. “Well, maybe she found it. Once you’re using it, it can be hard to shake the energy. It can be hard to fight the urge to use it again. Or at least that’s what my father says,” she hastily added. 

“Do you think -” Draco began to say, but was interrupted by a high piercing scream coming from the direction of the stairs leading to the entrance hall. They both sprinted out of the classroom, heading towards the direction of the scream. Slytherins were all doing the same, going up the stairs to see what was going on. 

They found out soon enough; in the entrance hall, on the wall by the Great Hall doors, was a message scrawled out in what looked like red blood. 

Mrs. Norris, Filch’s cat, was frozen on the floor beneath it. Filch was in hysterics as a crowd gathered around. Draco spotted Potter and his sidekicks, reading the message and looking over at - him - suspiciously. He rolled his eyes at them, turning then to read it for himself. 

_The Chamber of Secrets has opened. Enemies of the heir, beware._

“Merlin’s beard,” Drisella sucked in her breath. She looked fervently around the entrance hall, searching the faces of the students gathered. “Where’s Ginny?”

+

Ginny stood in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, heaving into one of the toilets. Feathers were in her hair and blood soaked her robe. She stared at her blood covered hands in horror. The diary laid nearby, open and full of words her eyes couldn’t read, her vision blurred with tears.

What had she done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun...
> 
> If you would like to leave me your thoughts on this chapter, please do. I love reading your reviews so much! What are we thinking about Drisella? Something is up with her. I really like writing from Draco's point of view. It's a lot of fun to explore him. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, you guys are amazing. I hope everyone is still staying safe. On the off chance I have any readers from Lebanon, you are in my thoughts right now. 
> 
> There is so much happening in the world right now. Stay safe and healthy. I appreciate you guys. <3


End file.
